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THE 
READING   OF   SHAKESPEARE 


THE    READING    OF 
SHAKESPEARE 


BY 


JAMES   MASON   HOPPIN 

PROFESSOR   EMERITUS  OF  THE  HISTORY 
OF  ART   IN   YALE  UNIVERSITY 


BOSTON    AND    NEW   YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
fciterjrtbe  pre#,  Camfcribge 
1906 


COPYRIGHT    1906  BY  JAMES  MASON  HOPP1N 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


Published  April,  iqob 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

LIFE  AND  LEARNING 4 

STYLE  . 18 

NATURE  AND  ART 22 

MORALITY 26 

HISTORICAL  PLAYS 39 

COMEDIES 73 

GREEK  PLAYS 108 

ROMAN  TRAGEDIES 130 

ITALIAN  PLAYS      .  157 

SOME  LAST  GREAT  PLAYS 179 


THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE 


ALMOST  every  English-speaking  man  with  liter- 
ary tastes  has  had,  at  some  time  in  his  life,  a  bout 
with  Shakespeare,  since  this  dramatist  represents 
the  highest  object  of  his  literary  curiosity,  and  it 
may  also  be  affirmed  that  one  who  possesses  any 
virility  of  mind  is  made  stronger  by  the  study  of 
Shakespeare  ;  our  strenuous  chief  magistrate,  it  is 
said,  is  fond  of  Shakespeare,  and  reads  him  for 
refreshment  while  stretched  before  the  fire  in  his 
Montana  log  cabin.  The  subject  itself  of  Shake- 
speare aids  us  in  our  reading  by  its  very  magni- 
tude. 

Nature  has  produced  three  poets  who  stand  like 
mountain  peaks  higher  than  the  rest — Homer, 
Dante,  and  Shakespeare.  Homer  delineated  the 
"  throned  gods"  of  Olympus,  and  gave  expression 
to  the  splendid  Hellenic  race  ;  Dante,  leaving  the 


2  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

miserable  strifes  of  Italian  factions,  tracked  the 
soul's  flight  into  spiritual  realms,  following  the 
leadings  of  Celestial  Love ;  while  Shakespeare 
interpreted  to  us  our  common  humanity,  and  was 
the  poet  of  universal  humanity ;  which  of  these 
three  poets  is  to  be  considered  the  greatest,  de- 
pends upon  our  nationality,  trend  of  studies,  and 
sympathetic  tastes. 

The  following  brief  talk  on  Shakespeare  makes 
no  pretense  to  add  anything  new  to  such  a  vast 
theme,  and  it  originated  in  this  wise :  I  spent  the 
summer  of  1903  in  the  country — a  dreadfully  rainy 
summer  —  and  for  recreation  and  instruction,  I 
took  up  the  reading  of  Shakespeare's  plays ;  and 
although  I  had  been,  all  my  life,  more  or  less  a 
reader  of  Shakespeare  in  a  cursory  way,  I  con- 
tinued this  reading  in  a  more  regular  manner, 
though  at  intervals,  until  the  present  time,  giving 
myself  to  it,  and  enjoying  the  beauties  of  his  work 
from  a  purely  literary  point  of  view,  not  dwelling 
too  critically  on  them.  In  this  year,  1903,  and  the 
succeeding  years  I  went  through,  more  or  less  care- 
fully, thirty-six  plays,  accompanying,  it  is  true, 


THE   READING  OF    SHAKESPEARE.  3 

the  delightful  task  by  reading  Professor  I^ouns- 
bury's  volumes  on  "Shakespeare  as  a  Dramatic 
Artist,"  and  "Shakespeare  and  Voltaire;"  but 
leaving  aside  Dr.  Furness's  clean  sweeping  "  Vari- 
orum Shakespeare"  and  other  critical  and  philo- 
logic  authors,  truly  rejoicing  that  I  was  born  to 
speak  English  and  could  read  Shakespeare  in  his 
own  tongue.  I  did  this,  I  may  repeat,  not  only  for 
instruction  but  for  enjoyment.  In  a  true  work  of 
art,  be  it  literary  or  otherwise,  there  is  always  the 
element  of  joy — it  gives  delight  because  it  aims  for 
perfection  ;  this  is  the  meaning  of  aesthetics,  which 
is  pleasure  derived  from  the  contemplation  of 
beauty  in  nature  and  art.  A  work  of  art  may 
have  in  it  the  element  of  the  useful  and  practical, 
but  it  also  from  its  beauty  awakes  joy.  Take  any 
of  the  arts — Architecture,  for  example,  on  a  Col- 
lege campus  :  while  there  should  be  as  much  of  the 
ample  space,  air,  and  light  of  nature  as  possible, 
and  the  grounds  should  be  laid  out  with  simple 
taste,  the  buildings  themselves  should  be  of  noble 
form  drawn  from  sound  classic  principles  and  of 
essentially  academic  character,  telling  what  they 


4  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

are  and  the  reason  of  them,  so  that  the  student  who 
daily  passes  to  and  fro  is  unconsciously  touched  by 
their  fitness  and  beauty  and  his  mind  is  moved  to 
finer  issues ;  this  is,  imperceptibly,  an  education, 
not  only  material  but  spiritual.  These  buildings 
should  not  be  merely  for  the  inhabitation  of  a 
flitting  crowd  of  young  men  or  for  the  reception  of 
books,  needful  as  these  are,  but  the  edifices  them- 
selves should  raise  and  cultivate  the  mind  of  many 
generations  by  their  true  and  artistic  qualities. 
Architecture,  a  manly  art  requiring  accurate 
thought,  should  be  studied  in  connection  with  his- 
tory, as  one  of  the  regular  courses  in  a  university 
education. 


LIFE  AND  LEARNING. 

The  first  glimpse  I  ever  caught  of  the  living 
Shakespeare,  his  actual  personality,  was  of  course 
at  Stratford-on-Avon,  and  there,  above  all,  at  the 
old  Edwardian  Grammar  School,  where  he  learned 
"small  Latin  and  less  Greek."  I  will  speak  of 
the  school  more  particularly  soon. 


UFE   AND   LEARNING. 


5 


Stratford-on-Avon  was  the  place  in  the  whole 
world  for  Shakespeare  to  be  born.  It  is  situated 
in  a  midland  county  in  the  heart  of  "merrie  Eng- 
land," where  its  quiet  rural  profile  is  reflected  in 
the  stream  of  "  the  softly  flowing  Avon,"  in  which 
the  tall  osiers  and  brilliant  wild  flowers  fringe  its 
banks  ;  though  not  so  sad  as  poor  Ophelia's  crown 
of  rosemary  and  rue.  The  bright  green  meadows, 
and  the  silly  sheep  browsing  on  them,  the  elegant 
but  small  spire  of  Stratford  church  in  which  the 
poet  was  buried,  the  gently  swelling  green  hills 
around,  and  the  low,  ancient,  cross-timbered 
houses  make  even  now  a  picture  of  the  olden 
time,  and  in  its  almost  unchanged  character  seem- 
ing to  promise,  at  least,  that  the  memory  of  the 
poet  of  nature  would  be  sacredly  kept  till  ' '  all  the 
breathers  in  the  world  were  dead." 

The  antique  grammar  school,  dating  from  1482, 
with  rugged  stone  gables,  stands  at  the  turn  of 
"Scholar's  Lane,"  and  not  far  from  the  church. 
Its  courtyard  in  the  rear  of  the  building  is  the 
same  as  when  the  young  Shakespeare  played  in  it 
at  marbles  and  leap-frog. 


6  THE   READING   OF   SHAKESPEARE. 

I  procured  a  key  from  the  teacher  living  not 
many  houses  off,  and  entered  the  upper  room, 
where  three  boys  sat  at  their  desks  apparently 
intent  on  their  lessons,  having  been  kept  in  after 
school  for  misdemeanors.  They  were  curly  pated, 
sturdy  little  fellows,  entirely  equal  to  the  occasion, 
and  I  have  no  doubt  that  they  regarded  the  inci- 
dent as  an  opportune  diversion  from  their  enforced 
task.  I  seated  myself  in  the  teacher's  chair  and 
questioned  them  about  their  studies  ;  among  other 
things,  one  of  the  boys  informed  me  gratuitously 
that  sometimes  they  were  feruled — it  may  be  when, 
in  the  language  of  Shakespeare's  time,  they  had 
' '  profited  nothing  in  their  books  and  failed  in 
their  accidence."  From  some  occult  reason,  I 
know  not  exactly  what,  I  seemed  to  find  here  the 
real  Shakespeare,  full  of  life  (albeit  the  boy,  or 
youth)  more  than  at  Henley  street  where  he  was 
born,  or  in  Shottery  Cottage  where  he  wooed 
Anne  Hathaway ;  for  here  he  started  on  that 
intellectual  career  which  left  behind  him  a  ray  of 
ever-expanding  light. 

The   school-room  is  long   and   low,   the  ribbed 


AND  LEARNING.  7 

beams  above  are  massive  and  black  with  age,  the 
light  coming  through  small  window  openings. 
The  desks  are  of  oak,  fearfully  hacked,  the  boys 
having  wreaked  their  revenge  on  them  for  their 
tasks  and  whippings.  The  oldest  boy  of  the  three 
was  a  handsome  little  fellow,  and  he  showed  me 
some  writing-books  of  school  exercises,  and  gave 
me  two  or  three  of  the  condemned  ones  in  the  con- 
flagration basket,  and  told  me  with  a  grin,  when  I 
asked  him  if  his  name  were  "  Will  Shakespeare," 
that  there  was  a  boy  in  town  whose  name  was 
"Willie  Shakespeare.1' 

On  my  leaving,  the  boys  said  they  would  give 
back  the  key  to  the  master,  and  I  let  them  have  it ; 
but  going  down  stairs  it  occurred  to  me  that  I 
ought  not  to  deliver  up  the  key  of  the  fortress  to 
the  prisoners,  who  might  use  it  for  their  escape  ; 
and  so,  though  I  hated  to  do  it,  I  went  back  and 
took  the  key  away  from  them,  for  they  were  smil- 
ing and  gentlemanly  rogues,  and  (though  this  may 
have  been  but  a  surmise)  they  nearly  tricked  me 
in  regard  to  the  key— would  the  boy  Shakespeare 
have  been  more  successful  ? 


8  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

In  regard  to  the  controverted  question  of  Shake- 
speare's learning,  his  education,  whatever  it  was, 
was  commenced  at  this  school.  Latin,  or  "  Latin- 
ity,"  as  it  was  named,  was  the  main  part  of  the 
education  of  this  period,  and  how  much  of  it  and 
of  other  learning  Shakespeare  there  acquired  (for 
he  must  have  remained  at  school  until  he  was  six- 
teen or  seventeen  years  old,  and  such  a  marvel  - 
ously  keen  youth  could  have  learned  a  great  deal 
in  that  time)  we  can  hardly  know.  His  school 
knowledge  embraced  the  " humanities,"  as  they 
were  called,  that  is,  Latin  and  Greek,  using  the 
crabbed  compendiums  then  in  vogue,  like  the  Sen- 
tentia pueriles,  and  he  read  portions  of  Virgil,  Ovid, 
Plutarch,  and  other  classic  authors,  learning  also 
to  speak  Latin  after  a  fashion  ;  then  he  left  the 
Stratford  school  and  joined  the  Earl  of  Leicester's 
company  of  ' '  Morality  players, ' '  who  performed 
in  Stratford,  going  with  them  to  London.  In 
London,  from  small  beginnings,  he  gradually  rose, 
and  at  that  period  of  his  life  he  is  known  to  have 
been  an  omnivorous  reader  of  books,  a  meddler  in 
all  knowledge,  which  he  had  to  be,  because  when 


UFE   AND   LEARNING.  9 

he  became  a  manager  this  implied  also  a  purveyor 
and  provider,  a  writer  of  fresh  plays,  in  order 
to  meet  the  demands  of  the  English  stage  at  a 
time  of  mental  ferment  and  growth,  "  the  spa- 
cious times  of  Great  Elizabeth  " — a  drama  in 
itself.  It  was  a  period  of  discovery,  when  a  new 
world  was  opening  and  new  lands  were  found. 
He  read  the  voyages  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  Drake, 
Hawkins,  the  Gilberts,  and  other  sea-captains, 
stimulating  the  wildest  fancies.  He  also  read  his- 
tories of  European  lands,  from  Scandinavia  to 
Italy  ;  stories  of  old  Rome,  before  Niebuhr  had 
swept  them  away ;  traditions  of  his  own  country 
and  its  stirring  civil  wars  and  French  wars ;  in 
fact  everything  came  to  his  net.  His  knowledge 
of  affairs  and  familiarity  with  law  terms  came  from 
his  helping  his  father  and  being  himself  frequently 
in  the  courts;  and  above  all,  he  had  the  art  of 
gaining  friends  among  the  educated  classes,  not 
only  among  literary  men,  dramatists,  and  poets,  but 
accomplished  noblemen  of  high  culture.  There 
was  in  especial  one  friend,  Florio,  the  emi- 
nent Latin,  Greek,  Italian,  and  French  scholar, 


10  THK   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

translator  of  "Montaigne's  Essays,"  and  student 
of  Magdalen  College,  Oxford,  a  man  of  great 
industry  and  learning ;  and  it  is  said,  though  this 
has  been  disputed,  that  there  exists  a  work  of 
Florio's  with  Shakespeare's  autograph  ;  at  least 
there  are  allusions  in  his  plays  to  this  scholar, 
which  show  his  familiarity  with  Florio,  so  that  he 
did  not  have  to  go  to  Lord  Bacon  for  his  learning, 
since  he  had  those  whom  he  could  more  easily  con- 
sult, who  could  direct  his  reading  and  fill  his 
readily  assimilating  mind  with  literary  allusions 
and  lore,  while  his  genius  appropriated  all  accessi- 
ble wisdom.  There  is  no  fear  that  Lord  Bacon's 
cryptogram  will  ever  be  found  in  Shakespeare's 
tomb. 

As  to  Shakespeare's  more  intimate  knowledge  of 
nature  and  human  life,  leaving  out  of  the  question 
his  poetic  genius,  he  had  the  advantage,  when  at 
home  in  Stratford,  of  living  amid  natural  scenes 
and  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  Arden 
Forest,  in  which  his  youthful  poaching  pranks  led 
him  to  an  early  acquaintance  with  the  intricacies 
of  the  forest  and  the  law. 


AND   LEARNING.  u 

He  was  married  and  was  a  father  before  his 
majority.  His  wife,  Anne  Hathaway,  was  seven 
or  eight  years  older  than  himself,  and  they  were 
early  betrothed,  which  in  those  days  constituted  a 
legal,  but  irregular  marriage  ;  while  his  wife  must 
have  had  some  power,  good  or  otherwise,  upon 
him,  yet  a  far  finer  and  profounder  feminine  influ- 
ence was  that  which  his  mother,  Mary  Arden, 
exerted  on  him. 

There  is  a  tradition,  not  authenticated,  that  after 
Shakespeare's  death  Anne  Hathaway  married  a 
second  time.  Mary  Arden,  though  now  fallen  to 
a  yeomanry  life,  might  be  termed  a  gentlewoman 
of  old  family,  whose  impress  is  seen  in  his  poetry. 
From  his  mother  he  inherited  his  love  of  flowers, 
birds,  animals,  and  trees,  and  of  the  solitudes 
and  beauties  of  nature,  and  he  must  have  felt 
that  he  had  some  rights  in  Arden  Forest  and  its 
deer,  since  it  once  belonged  (as  well  as  an  exten- 
sive territory  in  Warwickshire)  to  his  mother's 
family,  giving  their  name  to  this  whole  region, 
especially  to  the  wood  itself,  where,  wandering 
and  musing,  he  laid  the  forms  and  surroundings 
of  many  plays. 


12  THE;  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

He  drew,  too,  his  gentle  spirit  from  his  mother. 
"Gentle  and  honest,"  Ben  Jonson  called  him, 
and  his  contemporaries  speak  of  his  gentle  breed- 
ing, upright  character,  and  refined  tastes,  and  he 
gave  proof  of  this  in  the  select  company  he  kept. 
It  has  indeed  been  affirmed  that  Shakespeare  was 
an  aristocrat,  but  if  this  were  true,  it  might  be 
said  that  it  was  born  in  him  and  was  no  affecta- 
tion. He  had  the  English  love  of  lords  and  kings, 
and  he  walked  among  them  like  a  king  to  the 
manner  born,  and  could  also  scathe  them  for  their 
pride  and  oppression  with  terrible  words.  He  was 
nature's  nobleman,  and  was  too  big  a  man  to  be 
an  exclusive  aristocrat.  Ben  Jonson  once  again 
wrote  of  him,  "  I  loved  the  man,  and  do  honor  to 
his  memory  this  side  of  idolatry.  He  was  indeed 
most  honest,  and  of  an  open  and  free  nature,  had 
an  excellent  phantasy,  brave  notions  and  gentle 
expressions."  Ben  Jonson's  relations  to  Shake- 
speare throw  strong  light  on  the  character  of  both. 
They  were  nearly  contemporaries,  Shakespeare 
being  some  eight  or  nine  years  older.  They  com- 
menced their  careers  as  writers  for  the  stage  at 


UFE   AND   LEARNING.  13 

about  the  same  time.  Shakespeare  probably  came 
to  London  in  1585,  going  through  the  different 
grades  of  stage  service,  while  Jonson  began  his 
work  for  the  stage  in  London  some  six  years 
later,  in  his  learned  and  famous  dramas  pursuing 
the  ancient  Greek  forms  ;  while  Shakespeare  still 
remained  a  free  lover  of  nature. 

Jonson,  though  critical  of  his  own  methods, 
looked  upon  Shakespeare  as  his  superior.  The 
judgment  pronounced  by  John  Addington  Symonds, 
that  Jonson  bore  no  jealousy  towards  Shakespeare, 
cannot  be  gainsaid.  Jonson' s  line, 

"Shine  forth,  thou  star  of  poets," 

sounded  the  keynote  of  his  real  feeling  for  Shake- 
speare. This  * '  sweetness  and  light, ' '  a  phrase 
which  seems  to  have  been  invented  to  describe 
Shakespeare,  came,  we  cannot  but  think,  from  his 
mother,  Mary  Arden ;  and  yet  his  father,  John 
Shakespeare,  who  by  writers  in  the  next  centuries 
of  bitter  controversy  about  Shakespeare's  dramatic 
art  was  called  a  "butcher"  and  other  terms 
meant  to  be  lowering,  was  a  man  of  no  mean  stock 


14  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

or  reputation.  He  married  one  of  old  family,  by 
name  and  race,  at  least,  a  lady,  though  living  now 
in  yeomanry  degree ;  was  himself  high  bailiff  of 
Stratford,  and  his  ancestry  dated  back  to  Saxon 
times.  His  forefathers  doubtless  fought  at  Bos- 
worth  Field  near  by  Stratford,  and  in  the  Wars  of 
the  Roses.  The  martial  name  of  Shakespeare 
was  probably  won  in  this  way,  so  that  his  coat  of 
arms  bearing  a  slanting  spear  was  no  misnomer ; 
Shakespeare  himself  was  tenacious  of  this  coat  of 
arms,  and  took  pains  to  have  it  certified  in  the 
Herald's  College. 

When  he  returned  from  Ixmdon,  to  live  some 
twenty  years  in  Stratford-on- Avon ,  owing  to  his 
thrifty  habits  and  honesty  he  not  only  helped  his 
father  in  money  difficulties,  but  he  had  amassed 
considerable  wealth  and  built  the  "  New  House," 
so-called,  where  he  entertained  many  of  the  lead- 
ing dramatists  and  poets  of  the  day,  also  men  of 
courtly  rank.  This  constant  reference  to  His  hon- 
esty is  enough  to  quash  any  charge  of  forgery  or 
double  dealing  in  respect  to  his  plays,  a  charge 
never  mentioned  or  dreamed  of  in  his  lifetime  or 


UFE   AND    LEARNING.  15 

the  centuries  immediately  after.  "  Honest  and 
gentle ' '  indeed  !  Shakespeare  was  what  his  friends 
claimed,  and  what  even  his  rivals  and  enemies  did 
not  gainsay.  But  as  to  his  being  an  aristocrat,  it 
should  be  remembered  that  he  was  no  mere  aristo- 
crat. He  rose  above  caste  into  a  wider  world  of 
humanity.  He  merited  the  name  of  democrat  in 
the  nobler  sense  of  that  word.  He  loved  the  peo- 
ple and  his  humble  neighbors,  and  knew  and 
entered  into  their  moods  and  merry-makings.  He 
was  of  the  same  independent  spirit  with  them,  and 
in  his  youth  even  defied  the  lord  of  the  manor. 
Voltaire,  in  a  green  fit  of  poisoned  envy,  called 
Shakespeare  "  a  village  buffoon  who  had  not  writ- 
ten two  decent  lines,"  but  Voltaire  was  forced 
humbly  to  recede  from  these  words,  though  he 
hated  Shakespeare  because  he  upset  his  own 
precious  classic  ideas  of  the  drama. 

The  life  of  Shakespeare  from  1564  to  1616,  com- 
prising fifty-two  years,  runs  for  some  thirty  years 
parallel  to  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  one  of  the  most 
memorable  epochs  of  English  history;  and  his  death 
removed  from  the  quiet  community  of  Warwick- 


1 6  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

shire  its  greatest  figure.  He  was  buried  in  Strat- 
ford church  in  the  mid-place  of  honor  of  the  chan- 
cel, under  a  handsome  monument,  on  which  a  brass 
tablet  is  placed  inscribed  with  the  doggerel  verse 
of  blessing  and  cursing — which  I  for  one  do  not 
believe  Shakespeare  wrote,  but  that  it  was  the 
work  of  some  simple-minded  sexton  or  official,  for 
the  reason  that  it  was  then  the  custom  to  remove 
the  remains  of  the  dead  from  tombs  in  order  to 
make  room  for  other  bodies.  Here  was  set  up  on 
the  wall  a  wooden  and  woodeny  bust,  which  has 
almost  lost  what  value  it  had  by  being  renovated 
and  repainted,  and  the  original  color  of  the  hair 
and  eyes  has  disappeared. 

Shakespeare's  business,  if  it  may  be  so  called, 
was  simply  that  of  a  writer  of  plays  for  the  Globe 
and  Blackfriars  theaters,  of  which  he  was  an  actor 
and  partial  owner ;  and  it  was  a  life-work  of  the 
vastness  of  which  he  was  probably  unconscious  in 
regard  to  its  influence  on  the  public  mind,  renew- 
ing English  historic  patriotism,  raising  literature, 
cleansing  the  stage  of  many  of  its  worst  faults, 
reaching  the  government  itself  in  its  truer  ideals 


UFE   AND   LEARNING.  17 

of  thought  and  policy.  From  a  low  place  he 
mounted  to  a  high  one  in  the  estimation  of  the 
times,  and  was  honored  as  a  friend  of  the  people 
and  of  the  loftiest  in  the  land. 

Shakespeare's  life  proved,  if  nothing  else,  his 
own  modesty,  since  so  few  facts  of  his  life  are  left 
us.  He  did  not  talk  of  himself,  apparently,  even 
to  his  best  friends,  but  he  made  the  world  and 
humanity  the  confidant  of  his  thoughts.  If  he 
were  an  ambitious  man  he  did  not  show  it,  for 
he  seemed  careless  of  his  literary  works  and  of 
future  fame  ;  he  did  not  think  of  filling  the  world 
with  his  renown,  but  his  pipe  was  cut  from  the 
reeds  of  the  gentle  Avon.  His  friend  and  fellow 
actor,  Richard  Burbage,  spoke  freely  of  his  London 
career  ;  and  we  know  from  incidental  remarks  that 
there  is  as  true  a  certification  of  his  personality  as 
that  of  Ben  Jonson.  There  was  no  mystery.  He 
walked  and  talked  among  the  dramatists  of  his 
day  as  the  chief  of  them.  He  contested  the  prize 
of  wit  with  Ben  Jonson  at  the  "  Mermaid  Tavern  ;" 
with  Edmund  Spenser,  he  flattered  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, yet  Shakespeare  did  so  with  a  less  artificial 


1 8  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

and  more  spontaneous  grace  ;  both  were  men  above 
the  herd  of  sycophantic  writers,  men  who  could 
bestow  immortality  on  monarchs. 

STYLE. 

No  one  better  exemplified  the  truth  of  the  old 
French  adage  ' '  The  style  is  the  man ' '  than  did 
Shakespeare.  His  genius  made  his  style  what  it 
was.  He  was  the  poet  (the  maker)  of  his  own 
style. 

I  will  not,  at  present,  enlarge  on  the  great 
theme  of  Shakespeare's  imagination,  which  peopled 
earth  and  sky,  and  was  so  illuminating  an  ele- 
ment of  his  style  that  it  made  it  "of  imagination 
all  compact,"  and  gave  him  the  power  to  see 
things  that  did  not  visibly  exist  as  if  they  were 
real,  enabling  him  to  walk  the  Roman  forum  like 
one  who  lived  in  ancient  Rome,  and  to  see  the 
bottom  of  the  ocean  as  by  a  flash-light,  revealing 
its  hidden  treasures,  sunken  wrecks,  and.  ghastly 
sights. 

Freshly  reading  Shakespeare's  plays,  I  have  been 
struck  with  what  has  been  called  his  ' '  matchless 


STYI<E.  1 9 

use  of  words. ' '  In  the  development  of  the  English 
language  from  Chaucer's  time  to  the  present, 
although  the  number  of  words  has  increased  from 
the  increase  of  learning  and  the  introduction 
of  foreign  terms,  it  reached  its  highest  point  of 
strength  and  richness  in  King  James's  version  of 
the  Bible  and  in  Shakespeare's  dramas ;  for  noth- 
ing before  or  since  has  overtopped  this  culmina- 
tion of  the  English  tongue,  the  strength  of  which 
comes  in  a  great  degree  from  the  use  of  the  Saxon, 
which,  in  Shakespeare,  amounts  to  sixty  per  cent, 
and  forms  the  substratum  of  his  style  ;  the  English 
Bible  has  about  the  same.  Milton  has  less  than 
three  per  cent.  Shakespeare's  language  is  ribbed 
with  Saxon  granite.  No  words,  for  an  example, 
can  be  briefer  or  weightier  than  the  sentence  from 
"Macbeth:" 

"Sagg  with  doubt,  or  shake  with  fear." 

Shakespeare  has,  notwithstanding,  a  restricted 
vocabulary,  not  exceeding  fifteen  thousand  words. 
"His  affluence  of  language,"  according  to  Mr. 
Marsh,  "arises  from  the  variety  and  combination 


2O  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

rather  than  the  numerical  abundance  of  words. 
He  gave,  more  than  any  one,  the  English  character 
to  our  language,  but  could  also  employ  words  of 
classical  elevation  to  lend  gravity,  elegance,  and 
majesty  to  the  style,  whether  in  the  form  of  pre- 
cise expression,  or  that  of  the  highest  soar  of  the 
imagination.  There  is  a  spiritual  quality  in  his 
English  expression  of  the  history  and  spirit  of  the 
race,  in  which  in  all  its  earthliness  the  spiritual 
has  predominated,  and  which  has  been  handed 
down  from  northern  conquerors,  and  that  is  the 
secret  of  Shakespeare's  power,  clothing  the  mys- 
terious sympathies  of  the  soul  in  living  words." 
For  myself,  I  believe  that  even  so  great  a  genius 
as  Shakespeare  could  not  have  written  one  of  his 
plays  in  French  or  Italian.  It  must  be  confessed 
that  Shakespeare's  grammar,  at  times,  differs  from 
Lindley  Murray's,  so  that  one  can  believe  the 
assertion  of  Richard  Grant  White  that  English 
is  a  "  grammarless  tongue."  The  loose  relation 
of  words  in  Shakespeare's  sentences,  the  non- 
agreement  of  singulars  and  plurals,  the  separa- 
tion of  object  and  subject,  would  be  looked  upon 


STYLE.  21 

now  as  faults,  but  his  meaning  is  clearly  con- 
veyed except  when,  from  its  depths,  we  learn  the 
thought  with  difficulty  ;  so  clear,  indeed,  is  the 
sense,  that  prose  and  poetry  are  harmonized,  easily 
tripping  from  the  tongue,  and  minor  grammatical 
inconsistencies  are  not  considered.  The  meaning 
is  of  more  importance  than  the  style — the  life  than 
the  form.  It  is,  however,  to  be  said  that,  to  most 
persons,  the  practical  use  of  reading  Shakespeare 
is  his  English.  A  great  many  people  have  been 
inclined  to  regard  Addison  as  the  standard  of 
style,  but  it  would  be  far  better  to  make  Shake- 
speare our  master  and  teacher  in  the  use  of  the 
English  language.  A  word  more  might  be  added 
here ;  while  Shakespeare's  relation  to  his  native 
tongue  was  all  powerful,  his  influence  on  the  lan- 
guages of  other  races  and  nations  was  important. 
He  was  the  maker  of  English  in  its  present  form,  as 
Dante  was  of  Italian  and  Luther  of  German  ;  he 
used  English  with  such  freedom,  force,  and  absolute 
simplicity  of  nature  that  he  went  to  the  root  of  the 
English  language,  the  erd-form,  as  a  German  philos- 
opher would  call  it,  so  that  his  works  and  poetry 


22  THE  HEADING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

become  a  basis  and  nucleus,  producing  a  constantly 
increasing  form  of  assimilation  and  unification  in 
all  families  of  languages  springing  from  the  same 
stock.  The  influence  of  literature  itself  is  a 
mighty  one ;  it  is  silent,  invisible,  and  pervasive. 
England's  great  writers  and  masters,  especially  of 
the  earlier  stronger  period,  constitute  an  ever- 
growing influence  of  character  and  brotherhood 
between  England  and  America  that  is  stronger 
than  commerce  or  treaty. 

NATURE  AND  ART. 

In  the  deeper  question  of  nature  and  art  in 
Shakespeare's  style,  it  might  be  said  by  way  of 
prefatory  remark  that  Shakespeare  was  the  origi- 
nator of  the  Romantic  School.  He  was  the  creator 
of  this  school  in  literature,  not  only  in  England 
but  in  all  Europe.  Goethe  is  his  child  as  well  as 
Victor  Hugo.  He  was  not  trained  in  the  classical 
school  of  dramatic  art,  but  he  wrought  directly 
from  nature  without  art ;  yet  it  is  absurd  to  say 
that  Shakespeare  was  not  an  artist,  for  he  makes* 


NATURE   AND  ART.  23 

use  of  the  terms  "art"  and  "nature"  with  so  keen  a 
discrimination,  that  while  distinguishing  them,  he 
saw  their  intimate  relations  and  common  source, 
even  as  he  says  in  a  passage  of  "  Winter's  Tale," 

' '  This  is  an  art 

Which  does  mend  nature,— change  it  rather ;  but 
The  art  itself  is  nature." 

Nature  does  not  work  without  art,  and  the  great 
artist  is  he  who  perceives  and  interprets  the  secret 
of  nature  and  can  ' '  mend ' '  nature.  While  we  do 
not  detect  Shakespeare's  art,  it  is  so  real  that,  like 
nature  itself,  it  is  ever  fresh  and  new.  His  works 
might  have  been  written  yesterday.  They  do  not 
grow  obsolete,  so  that  we  are  ever  moved  by  their 
power.  In  reading  Shakespeare's  works  we  won- 
der at  their  modernness.  The  language  is  plastic  in 
his  hand,  and  he  moulds  it  at  his  will.  He  is  its 
master  and  it  does  not  master  him.  It  does  not 
grow  archaic  like  the  language  of  Ben  Jonson,  or 
Beaumont,  or  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  or  Edmund  Spen- 
ser, since  he  employed  not  the  language  of  book 
but  the  language  of  everyday  life  ;  and  sometimes 
it  is  even  slang.  In  "  King  John"  a  person  talks 


24  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

of  '  bounce '  just  as  it  is  now  applied  to  a  pushing 
act  or  man  ;  in  "  Pericles  "  '  dad  '  or  '  old  dad '  is 
talked  of  as  an  irreverent  boy  nowadays  might 
apply  it  to  his  father  ;  and  in  "  Troilus  and  Cres- 
sida  "  the  word  '  rich '  is  employed  as  we  say  jok- 
ingly— '  that  is  rich.'  Shakespeare  did  not  speak 
of  aesthetics,  because  this  word  was  not  then 
invented,  but  for  what  is  fit  he  makes  use  of  the 
Latin  word  '  incarnadine '  with  magnificent  effect 
in  "  Macbeth."  He  keeps  in  touch  with  the  peo- 
ple and  with  nature,  so  that,  as  he  walked  in  the 
noisy  Strand  of  London,  he  felt  the  quiet  of  Arden 
Wood,  and  pictured  in  his  mind  its  shadowy 
depths.  His  business  was,  as  has  been  said,  writ- 
ing plays  for  the  London  stage,  and  so  to  address 
the  people  that  they  understood  him  and  roared 
with  laughter  at  his  jokes.  His  puns  were  execra- 
ble, and  we  believe  in  the  saying  that  a  poor  pun  is 
as  good  as  a  good  one  if  it  only  makes  people 
laugh,  and  that  was  his  object — "to  split  the  ears 
of  the  groundlings;"  but  this  senseless  play  on 
words  vanishes  when  he  is  seriously  bent,  and  his 
wit,  which  is  the  product  of  thought,  shines,  as  it 


NATURE   AND   ART.  25 

does,  for  example,  in  the  scene  of  Hamlet  with  the 
actors,  which  is  as  pure  subjective  analysis  as 
anything  in  "  Quintilian's  Institutes." 

Shakespeare's  art,  vilified  during  the  two  suc- 
ceeding centuries  in  the  battle  of  critics,  is  now 
regarded  as  the  highest.  He  broke  the  bonds 
of  classic  art,  but  it  is  especially  because  he  did 
not  observe  the  "unities,"  and  for  this  cause  he 
was  set  down  to  be  without  art,  and  no  true  drama- 
tist. -5£schylus  and  Sophocles  he  did  not  regard, 
but,  great  poets  as  they  were,  why  should  they 
give  rules  to  a  greater  poet  ? 

I  have  been  impressed  with  Shakespeare's  unity 
of  aim,  a  unity  springing  not  from  outward  form 
but  from  inner  purpose.  No  matter  what  his- 
torians have  to  say  about  "Richard  III."  it  is 
Shakespeare's  "  Richard  III."  for  all  time,  and  he 
teaches  what  he  means  to  teach.  Everything 
bends  to  his  object,  no  matter  what  stands  in  the 
way.  In  "  Julius  Caesar  "  the  character  of  Caesar 
is  interpreted  by  the  poet,  who  is  evidently  more 
interested  in  Brutus  than  in  Caesar,  and  the  hero 
of  the  play  is  Brutus  and  not  Caesar.  The  lesson 


26  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

is  the  adamantine  patriotic  conscience  of  Brutus, 
and  not  the  imperial  will  of  Caesar.  Compared 
with  such  inner  unity  of  purpose  and  design,  the 
outer  unities  of  mere  time,  place,  and  circumstance, 
so  carefully  observed  by  Racine  and  Voltaire,  are 
small  things.  In  "Antony  and  Cleopatra,"  a 
scene  laid  in  Alexandria  is  followed  in  the  next 
act  by  a  scene  laid  in  Rome ;  but  what  matter,  if 
Shakespeare  has  taught  his  lesson  of  a  world's 
empire  lost  through  illicit  love?  He  has  put  a 
new  stamp  on  the  coin.  He  develops  a  conception 
in  the  play  which  gives  it  an  original  value  that 
makes  it  differ  from  the  work  of  any  other  drama- 
tist, and  this  is  art  that  outdoes  nature. 

MORAUTY. 

The  morality  of  Shakespeare  cannot  be  reduced 
to  a  philosophical  system  either  of  ethics  or  psy- 
chology, for  it  was  dynamic  and  spontaneous  ;  for, 
to  illustrate  this  in  pure  art,  Pheidias  did  not  work 
on  ethical  lines  or  rules  when  he  made  the  statue 
of  ' '  Olympian  Zeus  ' '  representing  the  supreme 
ruler  in  Hellenic  mythology,  nor  did  Michael 


MORALITY.  27 

Angelo  when  he  carved  the  "  Moses"  embodying 
his  conception  of  moral  law,  but  these  geniuses 
wrought  from  a  deeper  insight  and  instinctive 
sense  of  the  true  as  Shakespeare  did.  His  humor 
also  sprang  warm  from  his  heart,  and  because  it 
had  to  do  with  man  it  was  moral.  Of  such  genial 
humor  old  Thomas  Fuller  said,  ' '  it  hath  no  teeth 
or  nails  to  tear  or  devour  thy  brother."  It  was  a 
quick  sense  of  the  ludicrous  kept  in  bounds  by  a 
loving  heart  that  went  out  to  all  humanity,  not 
censorious  or  mean,  but  helpful  to  enable  man  to 
bear  the  ills  of  life,  an  inestimable  quality  that  car- 
ries one  over  the  hard  places  more  easily,  like  a 
wagon  with  good  springs,  and  following  the  Greek 
law  of  "moderation" — moderation  in  judgment 
and  act ;  and  if  a  man  has  no  touch  of  this  humor 
we  might  say  of  him,  "  Let  me  fall  into  the  hand 
of  God  and  not  into  the  hand  of  man." 

In  regard  to  Shakespeare's  morality  in  the  ordi- 
nary sense  of  the  term,  he  was  not  untrue  to 
the  principle  of  right.  He  was  too  great  not  to 
recognize  this  universal  law  of  righteousness,  and 
in  his  plays  he  almost  vehemently  upholds  virtue. 


28      THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

In  Stratford,  after  his  youthful  days  (if  the  story 
of  deer  stalking  has  any  truth),  his  character  and 
reputation  were  good.  He  undoubtedly  felt  the 
moral  influence  of  the  beginnings  of  the  Reforma- 
tion in  England,  and  contrary  to  the  narrow  judg- 
ment of  Carlyle  in  this  instance,  he  was  more  of  a 
Protestant  than  a  Catholic.  The  historical  plays 
of  "King  John"  and  "Richard  III."  are  full  of 
the  newly  awakened  spirit  of  resistance  to  Papal 
authority,  policy,  and  doctrine.  "The  Reforma- 
tion," says  the  author  of  "English  Past  and 
Present,"  "was  commencing  to  throw  off  the  ever- 
lasting pupilage  in  which  Rome  would  have  held 
the  nations,  an  assertion  that  they  had  come  of 
age,  and  that  not  through  the  church  but  directly 
through  Christ,  they  would  address  themselves  to 
God."  Shakespeare's  allusions  to  Christ,  which 
are  not  few,  are  always  tender  and  devout,  and 
his  citations  manifest  his  familiarity  with  the 
Bible,  in  whose  heights  and  depths  his  soul  had 
sympathy.  Goethe  says  of  him,  "You  would 
think  while  reading  his  plays  that  you  stood 
before  the  enclosed  awful  books  of  fate,  while  the 


MORALITY.  29 

wind  of  most  impassioned  life  was  howling  through 
the  leaves,  tossing  them  freely  to  and  fro." 

Shakespeare,  in  his  most  furious  moods,  will  be 
found  maintaining  the  moral  law  implanted  in  the 
mind  ;  he  makes  wicked  men  wear  the  mask  of 
virtue  and  do  homage  to  their  own  nature,  being 
created  in  God's  image. 

"  There  is  no  vice  so  simple  but  assumes 
Some  mark  of  virtue  on  his  outward  parts." 

Shakespeare  knew  what  sin  and  its  consequences 
were.  Ulrici,  the  German  critic,  says,  "It  is  a 
wonder  that  a  man  who  possessed  such  depths  of 
passion  and  knowledge  of  sin  could  have  so 
controlled  his  life  that  he  seems  to  have  been, 
after  his  youthful  period,  respected  and  beloved." 
Ulrici  adds  support  to  what  has  been  said  respect- 
ing Shakespeare's  idea  of  God  and  man,  and  that 
he  was  decidedly  Protestant. 

In  Shakespeare's  development  of  character  in  a 
play  which  brings  on  the  stage  all  vile  plots  and 
actions,  the  honesty  of  his  mind  appears,  although 
Shakespeare  is  without  doubt  open  to  the  charge 


30  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

of  coarse  language,  such  as  now  could  not  be 
tolerated.  He  does  not,  however,  deal  in  innuendo, 
and  he  makes  his  lewd  characters  plainly  what 
they  are  in  a  way  that  befits  them,  bringing  them 
into  derision  and  contempt.  It  was  a  coarse  age. 
Queen  Elizabeth  sometimes  swore  like  a  trooper  ; 
but  this  fact  of  its  being  a  rough  and  gross  age 
does  not  excuse  him,  and  yet  no  one  but  an  essen- 
tially clean-minded  man  could  have  drawn  female 
characters  like  Cordelia,  Ophelia,  Miranda,  Desde- 
mona,  and  the  daughter  of  King  Cymbeline,  in 
whom  a  singular  purity  shines,  clothing  them  in 
angelic  garments  ;  while  on  the  other  hand,  Cleo- 
patra, serpent  of  the  Nile  in  subtle  grace,  and 
immeasurably  the  superior  of  the  others  in  intel- 
lect, shows  a  luxurious  spirit  that  could  wantonly 
destroy  Antony,  "third  pillar  of  Rome,"  while 
waiting  for  other  Caesars  to  ruin.  Vice  gains 
nothing  by  Cleopatra's  allurements,  but  her  sen- 
suality is  stripped  bare,  and  no  one  but  Shake- 
speare could  have  made  her  at  once  so  lovely  and 
so  vile. 

Yet  Shakespeare  does  not  exhaust  a  character, 


MORAUTY.  31 

nor  does  he  assume  the  part  of  omniscience.  He 
sometimes  goes  contrary  to  our  natural  expecta- 
tion or  to  our  views,  as  man  judges  fragmentarily 
and  short-sightedly.  Shakespeare  judges  more  as 
the  Bible  does,  which  book  he  studied,  and  which 
is  the  true  transcript  of  human  nature,  because 
man's  spirit  is  a  great  deep,  a  blending  of  good 
and  evil,  of  wisdom  and  folly,  strength  and  weak- 
ness, swayed  now  by  this  motive  and  now  by  that ; 
capable  of  vast  effort,  but  perishing  before  the 
moth  ;  a  creature  of  heaven  and  earth,  higher  than 
the  angels  and  sometimes  lower  than  the  brutes,  a 
being  of  passions  and  affections  as  well  as  of 
rational  judgments,  and  as  diversified  and  unac- 
countable as  the  nature  he  lives  in.  In  a  word, 
morality  is  at  the  foundation  of  Shakespeare's 
greatness  as  a  dramatic  author.  It  is  the  quality 
which  discerns  the  true  in  things  and  is  at  the 
same  time  genial  and  just,  springing  from  the 
heart ;  as  Goethe  says  in  Faust, 

"Gefiihlistalles." 
There  is  one   fact  about   Shakespeare's  morality 


32  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

which  should  not  be  forgotten,  and  that  is,  in  the 
period  of  dramatic  art  which  followed  Shakespeare, 
or  the  age  of  the  Charleses,  of  Dryden,  Congreve, 
and  Wycherley,  the  drama  allied  itself  to  the  profli- 
gacy of  the  times,  to  the  forces  of  temptation  and 
evil,  while  Shakespeare's  plays  did  not  do  so.  He 
was  not  a  seducer  to  vice,  and  his  corruption,  if  it 
might  be  so  called,  does  not  corrupt.  It  did  not 
stick  and  smutch,  and  we  pass  over  the  ribald 
speeches  of  ' '  the  fat  knight ' '  and  do  not  remem- 
ber them,  since  they  are  the  reflections  of  a  gross 
time  rather  than  emanations  of  his  mind.  Often 
he  suddenly  rises  from  earth  and  its  baseness,  and 
in  a  moment  we  are  lifted  into  the  clear  empyrean 
of  most  delicate  poetry,  like  Ariel's  song,  heard 
above  the  cries  of  drunken  seamen,  and  touched 
by  rainbow  tints  and  the  breath  of  flowers.  Even 
the  bestial  Caliban,  when  freedom  comes  to  him, 
grows  poetic  and  sings  of  the  deep  secrets  of  nature 
that  he  has  learned  from  his  witchdam  Sycorax. 
Shakespeare  says  : 

"  A  golden  mind 
Stoops  not  to  shows  of  dross." 


MORALITY.  33 

Shakespeare  is  now  not  so  much  played  as  he  is 
read,  and  this  shows  progress  in  the  appreciation 
of  his  literary  genius,  but  he  surely  should  be  read 
with  a  broad  and  generous  mind,  for  he  believed 
in  the  greatness  of  man's  spirit,  and  that  every 
human  being  is  based  on  the  moral  law  in  the  con- 
stitution of  his  nature,  so  that  ' '  the  whole  is  mir- 
rored in  the  individual." 

The  chief  object  of  this  little  book  is  intended 
to  be  my  own  impressions,  especially  of  Shake- 
speare's plays,  one  and  several,  and  in  these  intro- 
ductory remarks  thus  far,  I  will  allude  to  but  one 
play,  as  it  has  a  bearing  on  what  has  been  already 
said  in  regard  to  the  moral  aim  of  Shakespeare— 
OTHELLO,  THE  MOOE  OF  VENICE.  This  play 
has  a  deep  moral ;  it  is  drawn  from  a  story  found 
in  an  Italian  novel  of  the  same  title,  by  one 
Giraldi  Cinthio,  it  being  Shakespeare's  lordly  way 
of  seizing  on  the  stories  and  plots  of  other  authors 
and  making  them  new,  no  matter  how  often  these 
had  been  used  by  dramatists,  as,  for  illustration, 
there  were  three  Parthenons  on  the  Acropolis 
before  the  Parthenon  of  Iktinos  was  reared  out  of 
3 


34  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

their  ruins.  Othello  is  not  the  central  figure.  He 
is  a  Saracen  soldier,  and  should  be  represented 
with  the  finely-cut  features,  manly  figure,  tall, 
powerful  form  of  that  Arab  race,  specimens  of 
which  are  now  to  be  seen  in  Arabia  and  Egypt, 
who  with  resistless  force  conquered  Northern  Africa 
and  the  southern  provinces  of  Spain,  rising  superior 
to  their  Christian  neighbors  in  the  arts  of  civiliza- 
tion, but  enervated  by  centuries  of  peace  were 
driven  out  of  Spain.  Othello  was  a  brave  soldier, 
laconic  and  proud,  but  capable  of  true  affection. 
He  was  absorbed  in  his  love  of  Desdemona,  and 
talked  to  her  freely  of  his  stirring  and  perilous 
life.  It  is  not,  however,  Othello  who  forms  the 
central  character  of  this  play,  since  amid  all  the 
splendid  and  changing  scenes  of  this  drama  there 
is  one  other  figure  on  whom  the  mind  of  the  reader 
becomes  fixed.  He  is  not  only  everywhere,  but 
his  personality  is  the  occasion  and  cause  of  the 
action  of  others.  He  grows  terribly  fascinating. 
His  presence,  imperturbable,  sometimes  smiling, 
polite  in  his  address,  looks  out  from  every  scene, 
whether  at  Venice  or  Cyprus,  in  the  council  hall, 


MORALITY.  35 

the  midnight  revel,  the  chamber  of  love,  and 
the  chamber  of  death.  lago  pulls  the  string 
that  moves  each  tongue  and  arm.  He  points 
Roderigo's  sword  at  his  friend's  breast ;  he 
prompts  the  intemperate  fury  of  Cassio  ;  he  brings 
tears  into  the  undimmed  eyes  of  Desdemona;  he 
unsettles  the  steady  mind  of  Othello,  and  "the 
tragic  loading  of  the  bed"  is  his  work.  He  is  a 
man  without  humanity,  a  polished  intellect  with- 
out a  ray  of  intellectual  elevation.  When  Richard 
III.  cries  out  on  Bosworth  Field, 

"  A  thousand  hearts  are  great  within  my  bosom," 

we  almost  forget  the  tyrant  and  murderer,  and 
wish  him  a  soldier's  grave;  when  the  usurping 
king  of  Denmark  soliloquizes  pathetically  about 
his  crime  and  kneels  to  ask  heaven's  forgiveness, 
we  yield  him  a  kind  of  pity  and  feel  that  though 
a  deep  offender  he  has  some  feeling  ;  but  lago  has 
no  such  "compunctious  visitings,"  and  he  scoffs 
at  the  present  and  the  future.  While  he  does  not 
profess  to  be  an  atheist,  for  the  reason  that  that 
would  be  a  blunder  to  his  exquisite  sense  of  evil, 


36  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

he  undermines  God's  throne  by  making  everything 
honest,  pure,  lovely,  and  of  good  report,  the  object 
of  his  wicked  wit.  He  has  been  compared  to  the 
Mephistopheles  of  Goethe,  but  the  incomparable 
superiority  of  Shakespeare  is  seen  in  his  discard- 
ing the  supernatural ;  for  while  Mephistopheles 
amuses  by  his  preternatural  tricks,  and  we  marvel 
at  his  cleverness,  we  tremble  at  lago,  and  draw  a 
long  breath  when  he  is  put  out  of  the  "world. 

The  seeming  want  of  motive  in  lago  has  been 
observed,  which  Coleridge  has  called  his  ' '  motive- 
less malignity."  A  hint  or  so  that  lago  himself 
lets  drop  regarding  disappointed  ambition  and  an 
undefined  suspicion  of  his  wife's  honesty  are  the 
only  intangible  causes  to  account  for  his  conduct. 
He  did  not  set  motive  squarely  over  against  action, 
as  is  done  in  psychology  or  mechanics,  but  in  this 
way  Shakespeare  shows  his  profound  knowledge  of 
human  nature,  which  is  too  obscure  to  be  analyzed 
in  a  court  of  law  or  confined  to  a  system  of  philoso- 
phy. It  was  enough  for  a  nature  like  lago's  to 
have  a  nobler  nature  like  Othello's  before  him  to 
rouse  "  the  cruel  devil  of  his  will." 


MORALITY.  37 

The  two  moral  features  of  lago's  character,  as  I 
read  them,  are  entire  selfishness  and  constitutional 
hypocrisy.  In  a  conversation  with  Roderigo,  to 
whom  in  his  contempt  he  was  not  afraid  to  expose 
himself  somewhat,  he  says  : 

"  Were  I  the  Moor  I  would  not  be  lago  : 
In  following  him,  I  follow  but  myself." 

While  outwardly  subservient  to  others,  he  serves 
no  one  but  himself.  In  his  advice  to  Roderigo,  he 
remarks : 

"  I  have  looked  upon  the  world  for  four  times  seven  years; 
and  since  I  could  distinguish  betwixt  a  benefit  and  an  injury, 
I  never  found  a  man  that  knew  how  to  love  himself. ' ' 

His  hypocrisy  is  the  only  thing  he  does  naturally, 
and  he  blurts  out : 

"  I  am  not  what  I  am." 

He  sneeringly  says : 

"Though  I  do  hate  him  as  I  do  hell  pains, 
Yet  for  necessity  of  present  life, 
I  must  show  out  a  flag  and  sign  of  love, 
Which  is  indeed  but  sign." 

He  is  hail-fellow  with  the  youthful  drunkard  Cas- 


38  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

sio,  and  yet  with  entire  grace  he  plays  the  saint, 
and  tells  Othello : 

"I  lack  iniquity  sometimes  to  do  me  service." 

Othello  calls  him  to  the  last  "honest  lago  "  and 
"my  just  friend." 

The  chief  intellectual  characteristic  of  lago  is 
his  insight,  or  his  analytic  perception  of  character, 
penetrating  to  the  concealed  causes  of  men's 
actions.  He  discovers  human  weaknesses,  and 
takes  advantage  of  this  discovery  by  adapting 
himself  to  the  disposition  of  every  person  with 
whom  he  has  to  deal  and  plying  him  with  baits 
that  may  prove  successful  to  his  overthrow. 

He  turns  to  account  the  smallest  circumstances, 
finding  that  men  are  ill-balanced,  and  moved  not 
by  earthquakes,  but  shadows  and  sunshine ;  by 
never  neglecting  these  small  things,  and  in  the  cau- 
tious way  in  which  he  uses  them  to  plant  sus- 
picion in  the  mind  of  Othello — the  mysterious 
tone,  the  abstracted  repetition,  the  obscure  mean- 
ing, the  indefinite  hint — he  winds  up  the  agonized 
curiosity  of  the  man  to  a  pitch  of  excitement  in 


HISTORICAL    PLAYS.  39 

which  calm  judgment  is  confused  ;  in  such  methods 
are  seen  his  consummate  knowledge  of  human  life  ; 
and,  indeed,  lago's  practical  philosophy  would,  in 
a  good  man,  be  worthy  of  imitation,  but  he  has  no 
corresponding  faith  to  save  and  to  sanctify  his 
human  will ;  he  entirely  ignores  the  divine  will 
and  love,  and  regards  himself  as  maker  of  himself : 
"  T  is  in  ourselves  that  we  are  thus  and  thus." 

He  brings  every  thought  and  passion  under  the 
control  of  an  iron  determination,  and,  assaulting 
the  most  divine  of  human  qualities,  he  exclaims : 

"It  is  merely  ^  a  lust  of  the  blood,  and  a  permission  of 
the  will." 

This,  in  factr  is  the  secret  of  lago's  control  over 
other  minds,  to  lead  them  at  his  pleasure,  and 
none  can  doubt  that  the  character  of  this  consum- 
mate villain  is  a  tremendous  sermon  of  the  fearful 
capacities  for  evil  in  a  human  soul  that  throws  off 
a  higher  rule  over  its  actions. 

HISTORICAL  PLAYS. 

Goethe,  though  a  great  poet,  showed  neverthe- 
less his  personal  and  national  limitations,  as,  for 


40  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

example,  in  his  Italian  and  classical  dramas  there 
is  a  Teutonic  subjectivity  of  thought  which  makes 
his  characters  talk  and  act  like  Germans ;  in  a 
similar  manner  Homer  himself  describes  Greeks, 
the  Greek  type  of  race,  fierce,  sensuous,  eloquent, 
loving  beauty,  art,  and  song.  On  the  other  hand, 
Shakespeare's  personages  are  not  English  solely, 
but  are  beings  who  might  have  lived  in  any  period 
or  land,  and,  in  this  respect,  he  passed  beyond  the 
limitations  of  race  and  nation,  reaching  the  deeper 
elements  of  common  humanity,  depicting  living 
men  as  they  are  in  childhood,  youth,  or  old  age, 
the  high  and  low,  the  good  and  bad.  They  are 
real  men  and  women,  whose  various  costumes  and 
speech  still  cover  a  nature  with  common  wants 
and  passions,  happy  or  sorrowful,  loving  or  hating, 
base  or  pure ;  yet  while  dealing  thus  with  life 
whereyer  found,  it  is  evident  that  Shakespeare 
loves  England.  As  most  of  what  are  called 
Shakespeare's  Historical  Plays  are  laid  in  England 
and  belong  originally  to  the  more  youthful  period 
of  authorship,  I  will  speak  first  of  these,  although 
some  of  them  may  not  be  wholly  Shakespeare's  in 


HISTORICAL,   PI^AYS.  41 

their  plot.  Of  the  first  two  plays,  "KING  JOHN" 
and  "RICHARD  H,"  I  will  say  but  a  few  words ; 
but  what  were  the  history  of  England  without 
Shakespeare's  plays  to  give  the  color,  form,  and 
pressure  of  those  earlier  times?  Other  modern 
histories  of  England  are  more  like  academic  essays 
after  the  style  of  Thucydides  and  Sallust,  with  the 
author's  own  philosophic  generalizations.  I  would 
except  the  great  history  of  Gibbon,  flowing  like  a 
majestic  river  through  a  thousand  years,  bearing 
on  its  tide  all  characters  and  events,  great  and 
small ;  but  medieval  England,  with  its  gorgeous 
pageants,  the  "Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold,"  its 
chivalry  and  fightings,  its  fierce  ' '  Wars  of  the 
Roses"  that  drenched  England  with  blood,  and 
stubborn  British  valor  on  the  fields  of  France — this 
England  was  illuminated  by  the  vivid  light  of 
Shakespeare's  genius. 

Great  personages  walked  over  the  scene  as  if 
alive.  These  plays  were  not  political  essays  on  the 
government  of  the  times,  as  the  marvelous  pen  of 
Lord  Bacon  might  have  written,  though  they  give 
penetrating  glimpses  into  England's  political  his- 


42  THE   READING   OF   SHAKESPEARE. 

tory.     The  reader  becomes  one  in  time  with  these 
scenes,  and  is  an  absorbed  looker-on. 

KING  JOHN. 

The  first  of  the  historical  plays  in  point  of  time 
is  ' '  King  John. ' '  This  play  with  that  of  ' '  Richard 
II."  is  of  less  importance  than  the  rest.  "King 
John"  was  an  earlier  work,  recast  in  1591  and  com- 
pleted in  1595.  This  king  himself,  as  is  known, 
was  a  weak  and  treacherous  tyrant.  He  was  no 
hero,  and  there  was  no  trace  in  him  of  the  great- 
ness of  the  Norman  line,  except,  perhaps,  his 
physical  beauty,  at  least  if  he  is  truly  repre- 
sented in  the  bronze  monument  in  Gloucester 
Cathedral. 

The  inimitable  pathos  of  the  conversation 
between  the  "little  Prince"  Arthur  and  Hubert, 
the  dreadful  display  of  red-hot  irons  to  burn  out 
the  eyes,  the  boyish  pleadings  from  the  heart,  are 
fitted  to  totally  overcome  Hubert's  stern  resolve. 
What  could  be  more  winningly  touching  than  the 
words  of  Arthur  ?  The  dialogue,  so  simple  in  lan- 
guage and  of  almost  childlike  tenderness,  yet  so 


HISTORICAL  PLAYS.  43 

wonderfully  qualified  to  move  the  most  iron  will ! 
This  scene  is  as  fine  as  anything  in  the  great  poet's 
own  works  : 

Arthur — "Good  morrow,  Hubert." 

Hubert — "  Good  morrow,  little  prince." 

Arthur — "As  little  prince,  having  so  great  a  title  to  be 
more  prince,  as  may  be.     You  are  sad." 

Hubert — "  Indeed,  I  have  been  merrier." 

Arthur — "  Mercy  on  me  ! 
Methinks  nobody  should  be  sad  but  I : 
Yet,  I  remember,  when  I  was  in  France, 
Young  gentlemen  would  be  as  sad  as  night, 
Only  from  wantonness.     By  my  Christendom, 
So  I  were  out  of  prison  and  kept  sheep, 
I  should  be  as  merry  as  the  day  is  long  ; 
And  so  I  would  be  here,  but  that  I  doubt 
My  uncle  practises  more  harm  to  me  : 
He  is  afraid  of  me  and  I  of  him  : 
Is  it  my  fault  that  I  was  Geffrey's  son  ? 
No,  indeed,  is't  not ;  and  I  would  to  heaven 
I  were  your  son,  so  you  would  love  me,  Hubert." 

Hubert— [Aside}  "  If  I  talk  to  him,  with  his  innocent  prate 
He  will  awake  my  mercy  which  lies  dead  : 
Therefore  I  will  be  sudden  and  dispatch." 

Arthur — * '  Are  you  sick,  Hubert  ?  you  look  pale  to-day  : 
In  sooth,  I  would  you  were  a  little  sick, 


44  THE   READING    OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

That  I  might  sit  all  night  and  watch  with  you  : 
I  warrant  I  love  you  more  than  you  do  me." 

Hubert — [Aside]   "His  words  do  take  possession  of  my 

bosom. 

Read  here,  young  Arthur.     [Showing  a  paper] 
[Aside"]  How  now,  foolish  rheum  ! 
Turning  dispiteous  torture  out  of  door  ! 
I  must  be  brief,  lest  resolution  drop 
Out  at  mine  eyes  in  tender  womanish  tears. 
Can  you  not  read  it  ?  is  it  not  fair  writ  ?  " 

Arthur—  "Too  fairly,  Hubert,  for  so  foul  effect : 
Must  you  with  hot  irons  burn  out  both  mine  eyes  ?  '* 

Hubert — "  Young  boy,  I  must." 

Arthur — ' '  And  will  you  ?  " 

Hubert— "  And  I  will." 

Arthur—"  Have  you  the  heart  ?    When  your  head  did 

but  ache, 

I  knit  my  handkerchief  about  your  brows, 
The  best  I  had,  a  princess  wrought  it  me, 
And  I  did  never  ask  it  you  again  : 
And  with  my  hand  at  midnight  held  your  head, 
And,  like  the  watchful  minutes  to  the  hour, 
Still  and  anon  cheer 'd  up  the  heavy  time, 
Saying,  '  What  lack  you  ?'  and  '  Where  lies  your  grief?' 
Or,  « What  good  love  may  I  perform  for  you  ?' 
Many  a  poor  man's  son  would  have  lain  still 
And  ne'er  have  spoke  a  loving  word  to  you  ; 


HISTORICAL  PLAYS.  45 

But  you  at  your  sick  service  had  a  prince, 

Nay,  but  you  may  think  my  love  was  crafty  love, 

And  call  it  cunning  :  do,  and  if  you  will : 

If  heaven  be  pleased  that  you  must  use  me  ill, 

Why  then  you  must.     Will  you  put  out  mine  eyes  ? 

These  eyes  that  never  did  nor  never  shall 

So  much  as  frown  on  you." 

Hubert — "  I  have  sworn  to  do  it ; 
And  with  hot  irons  must  I  burn  them  out." 

Arthur — "  Ah,  none  but  in  this  iron  age  would  do  it  1 
The  iron  of  itself,  though  heat  red-hot 
Approaching  near  these  eyes,  would  drink  my  tears 
And  quench  his  fiery  indignation 
Even  in  the  matter  of  mine  innocence, 
Nay,  after  that,  consume  away  in  rust, 
But  for  containing  fire  to  harm  mine  eye. 
Are  you  more  stubborn — hard  than  hammer'd  iron  ? 
An  if  an  angel  should  have  come  to  me 
And  told  me  Hubert  should  put  out  mine  eyes, 
I  would  not  have  believed  him, — no  tongue  but  Hubert's." 

Hubert— •"  Come  forth." 

{Re-enter  attendants  with  cord,  irons,  etc.} 
"  Do  as  I  bid  you  do. ' ' 

Arthur—"  O,  save  me,  Hubert,  save  me !  my  eyes  are  out 
Even  with  the  fierce  looks  of  these  bloody  men." 

Hubert.— "Give  me  the  iron,  I  say,  and  bind  him  here." 

[Stamps. 


46  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

i 
Arthur.—11  Alas,  what  need  you  be  so  boisterous— rough? 

I  will  not  struggle,  I  will  stand  stone-still. 

For  heaven's  sake,  Hubert,  let  me  not  be  bound  ! 

Nay,  hear  me,  Hubert,  drive  these  men  away, 

And  I  will  sit  as  quiet  as  a  lamb  ; 

I  will  not  stir,  nor  wince,  nor  speak  a  word, 

Nor  look  upon  the  iron  angerly ; 

Thrust  but  these  men  away,  and  I'll  forgive  you, 

Whatever  torment  you  do  put  me  to.M 

Hubert — "  Go,  stand  within  ;  let  me  alone  with  him.' 

ist  Attend.— "\  am  best  pleased  to  be  from  such  a  deed.*' 

[Exeunt  Attendants.] 

Arthur — "  Alas,  I  then  have  chid  away  my  friend  ! 
He  hath  a  stern  look,  but  a  gentle  heart : 
Let  him  come  back,  that  his  compassion  may 
Give  life  to  yours." 

Hubert — "  Come,  boy,  prepare  yourself." 

Arthur — "Is  there  no  remedy  ?  " 

Hubert — "None,  but  to  lose  your  eyes." 

Arthur— "O  heaven,  that    there  were    but  a   mote  in 

yours, 

A  grain,  a  dust,  a  gnat,  a  wandering  hair, 
Any  annoyance  in  that  precious  sense! 
Then,  feeling  what  small  things  are  boisterous  there, 
Your  vile  intent  must  needs  seem  horrible." 

Hubert—'1  Is  this  your  promise  ?  go  to,  hold  your  tongue. " 


HISTORICAL   PLAYS.  47 

Arthur—"  Hubert,  the  utterance  of  a  brace  of  tongues 
Must  needs  want  pleading  for  a  pair  of  eyes  : 
Let  me  not  hold  my  tongue,  let  me  not,  Hubert ; 
Or,  Hubert,  if  you  will,  cut  out  my  tongue, 
So  may  I  keep  mine  eyes.     O,  spare  mine  eyes  ! 
Though  to  no  use  but  still  to  look  on  you  ! 
Lo,  by  my  troth,  the  instrument  is  cold 
And  would  not  harm  me." 

Hubert — ••  I  can  heat  it,  boy." 

Arthur—  "No,  in  good  sooth  ;  the  fire  is  dead  with  grief, 
Being  create  for  comfort,  to  be  used 
In  undeserved  extremes  :  See  else  yourself  ; 
There  is  no  malice  in  this  burning  coal ; 
The  breath  of  heaven  hath  blown  his  spirit  out 
And  strew'd  repentant  ashes  on  his  head." 

Hubert — "  But  with  my  breath  I  can  revive  it,  boy." 

Arthur — "  An  if  you  do,  you  will  but  make  it  blush 
And  glow  with  shame  of  your  proceedings,  Hubert : 
Nay,  it  perchance  will  sparkle  in  your  eyes  ; 
And  like  a  dog  that  is  compel!' d  to  fight, 
Snatch  at  his  master  that  doth  tarre  him  on. 
All  things  that  you  should  use  to  do  me  wrong 
Deny  their  office  :  only  you  do  lack 
That  mercy  which  fierce  fire  and  iron  extends, 
Creatures  of  note  for  mercy-lacking  uses." 

Hubert—"  Well,  see  to  live  ;   I  will  not  touch  thine  eye 


48  THE   READING   OF   SHAKESPEARE. 

•     For  all  the  treasure  that  thy  uncle  owes  : 
Yet  am  I  sworn  and  I  did  purpose,  boy, 
With  this  same  iron  to  burn  them  out." 

Arthur—  "O.now  you  look  like  Hubert !  all  this  while 
You  were  disguised." 

Hubert — "  Peace  ;  no  more.     Adieu. 
Your  uncle  must  not  know  but  you  are  dead ; 
I'll  fill  these  dogged  spies  with  false  reports  : 
And,  pretty  child,  sleep  doubtless  and  secure, 
That  Hubert,  for  the  wealth  of  all  the  world, 
Will  not  offend  thee." 

Arthur—"  O  heaven  !  I  thank  you,  Hubert." 

Hubert — "  Silence ;  no  more  :  go  closely  in  with  me : 
Much  danger  do  I  undergo  for  thee." 

[Exeunt. 

ZING  RICHARD  II 

This  play  has  been  held  to  be,  as  a  general  rule, 
tame  and  dull,  but  for  myself  I  find  something 
interesting  in  the  dignity  of  King  Richard  II.  at 
his  dethronement,  when  he  is  awaiting  a  cruel 
death  by  the  hands  of  assassins.  Feudal  England 
was  then  more  under  the  rule  of  the  fierce  nobles 
than  of  the  king  or  the  people,  as  was  also  the 
case  in  France  at  that  period. 


HISTORICAL  PLAYS.  49 

All  the  early  editions  of  this  play  ascribe  it  to 
Shakespeare's  authorship  of  about  the  date  of  1593, 
receiving  new  additions  later  from  his  pen,  perhaps 
for  political  reasons,  after  the  death  of  Elizabeth. 
The  king's  meditations  in  the  dungeon  of  Pomfret, 
on  thoughts  and  music  and  other  things  some- 
times loftier,  are  interesting,  such  as 

"Mount,  mount,  my  soul !  thy  seat  is  up  on  high  ; 
Whilst  my  gross  flesh  sinks  downward,  here  to  die," 

the  blood  of  the  Plantagenet  showing  itself  in  this 
faineant  king — 

44  As  full  of  valour,  as  of  royal  blood." 

At  the  fight  between  Bolingbroke  and  Norfolk, 
which  was  to  have  come  off  but  was  stopped  by 
King  Richard,  the  speeches  are  long-winded  and 
repetitiously  boastful,  like  Homer's  heroes  before 
their  fights. 

The  proud  Bolingbroke 's  demeanor  when  he 
returns  from  exile,  in  England,  is  to  be  contrasted 
with  his  smooth-tongued,  popular  addresses  to  the 
"  common  people."  He  saw  a  source  of  power  in 
the  democracy,  as  he  did  more  and  more  after- 
wards when  he  became  King  Henry  IV. 
4 


50  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

The  arch  conspirators,  York,  Northumberland, 
and  Harry  Percy,  the  last  "but  tender,  raw,  and 
young,"  here  first  appear  in  their  ckaracteristic 
speeches.  Notice  the  common  expressions  even 
now  in  use,  such  as  the  familiar  phrase  of  sixes 
and  sevens : 

"  Everything  is  left  at  six  and  seven," 

and  also  of  the  contemptuous  phrase  of  a  "  row  of 
pins."     Phrases  in  Shakespeare's  plays,  I  would 
again  remark,    are   often    repeated,    showing   the 
hand  of  the  same  master,  as  in  the  phrase, 
"  I  have  a  thousand  spirits  in  one  breast." 

The  good  Bishop  Carlisle  prophesies  the  bloody 
' '  Wars  of  the  Roses  "  which  would  spring  up  after 
the  death  of  Richard  II. 

Bolingbroke  alludes  to  his  son,  afterwards  Henry 
V.,  while  looking  for  him  in  London  taverns,  as 
"  a  lawless  youth." 

The  wonderful  description  of  England  by  ' '  Old 
John  of  Gaunt,  time-honored  Lancaster,"  cannot 
be  passed  over : 

"  This  royal  throne  of  kings,  this  scepter'd  isle, 
This  earth  of  majesty,  this  seat  of  Mars, 


HISTORICAL  PLAYS.  51 

This  other  Eden,  demi-paradise  ; 

This  fortress  built  by  Nature  for  herself 

Against  infection  and  the  hand  of  war  ; 

This  happy  breed  of  men,  this  little  world, 

This  precious  stone  set  in  the  silver  sea, 

Which  serves  it  in  the  office  of  a  wall, 

Or  as  a  moat  defensive  of  a  house, 

Against  the  envy  of  less  happier  lands  ; 

This  blessed  plot,  this  earth,  this  realm,  this  England, 

This  nurse,  this  teeming  womb  of  royal  kings, 

Fear'd  by  their  breed  and  famous  by  their  birth, 

Renowned  for  their  deeds  as  far  from  home, 

For  Christian  service  and  true  chivalry, 

As  is  the  sepulchre  in  stubborn  Jewry 
Of  the  world's  ransom,  blessed  Mary's  son  ; 
This  land  of  such  dear  souls,  this  dear  dear  land, 
Dear  for  her  reputation  through  the  world, 
Is  now  leased  out,  I  die  pronouncing  it, 
Like  to  a  tenement  or  pelting  farm  : 
England,  bound  in  with  the  triumphant  sea, 
Whose  rocky  shore  beats  back  the  envious  siege 
Of  watery  Neptune,  is  now  bound  in  with  shame, 
With  inky  blots  and  rotten  parchment  bonds  : 
That  England,  that  was  wont  to  conquer  others, 
Hath  made  a  shameful  conquest  of  itself. 
Ah,  would  the  scandal  vanish  with  my  life, 
How  happy  then  were  my  ensuing  death  !" 


52  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

KING  RICHARD  IH 

The  play  of  "Richard  III."  follows  Hollinshed 
pretty  closely.  Richard  III.  clove  his  way  to  the 
throne  by  his  strong  mind  and  iron  mace,  beating 
down  all  before  it.  He  was  powerful,  but  piti- 
lessly ambitious.  Marlowe  had  also  before  this 
written  a  play  on  Richard  III.  He  was  a  drama- 
tist of  great  vigor,  but  another  had  arisen  to  take  his 
sceptre,  and  after  Shakespeare's  play  of  "  Richard 
III."  he  grew  discouraged  and  nearly  came  to  an 
end  as  a  dramatic  writer  and  poet. 

An  old  chronicler  says  that  Richard  III.  "was 
no  euill  captain  in  war,"  but  Shakespeare  gives 
him  besides  strong  intellectual  qualities  and  a 
subtle  wit,  as  is  exhibited  in  the  scene  with  the 
Princess  Anne. 

He  had  a  moral  nature,  but  his  devouring  ambi- 
tion swallowed  it  up. 

The  scene  in  the  midnight  tent  before  the  battle 
brings  out  the  dread  action  of  Conscience  and  the 
fearful  revenge  of  a  vigorous  but  abused  nature  ; 
but  his  warlike  spirit  was  unconquered  to  the  last. 


HISTORICAL  PLAYS.  53 

Richard  III.  is  one  of  those  characters,  trans- 
formed by  Shakespeare's  genius  from  a  mere 
fighter  to  a  thinking  man,  whose  wicked  ambitions 
knew  no  bounds. 

KING  HENRY  IV. 

The  first  part  of  this  play  of  "  Henry  IV."  was 
entered  on  the  Stationers'  Register  under  date  of 
1 597-8.  Many  quartos  were  issued  between  1597- 
1639.  The  title  of  the  play  in  the  folio  is,  "  The 
first  part  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  with  the  Life  and 
Death  of  Henry,  surnamed  Hotspur."  The  second 
part  was  first  published  in  quarto  in  1600,  calling 
it,  "  The  second  part  of  Henry  the  Fourth  con- 
tinuing to  his  death  and  coronation  of  Henry  the 
Fifth,  with  the  humours  of  Sir  John  Falstaffe  and 
swaggering  Pistol."  Ben  Jonson  makes  this  allu- 
sion in  "  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour"  with  the 
words,  "  You  may  in  time  make  lean  Macilente  as 
fat  as  Sir  John  Falstaff." 

The  play  of  "Henry  IV.,"  who  earlier  was 
simply  Bolingbroke,  bears  the  same  formally 
dramatic  relationship  to  "Richard  II.,"  "King 


54  THE   READING   OF   SHAKESPEARE. 

John,"  and  "  Richard  III.,"  as  "  The  Merchant  of 
Venice  "  does  to  earlier  comedies,  such  as  "  Love's 
Labour's  Lost,"  "Comedy  of  Errors,"  and  some 
other  plays.  The  second  part  of  "Henry  IV." 
was  certainly  written  in  1598-99.  The  play  was 
derived  from  Hall's  and  Hollinshed's  Chronicles, 
and  from  an  old  play  acted  before  1588. 

Shakespeare  changed  historical  facts  in  the  case 
of  Hotspur  and  the  Prince,  making  them  exact 
contemporaries  fighting  on  Shrewsbury  field,  which 
could  not  have  occurred.  "Henry  IV.,"  in  two 
parts,  is  by  far  the  most  important  of  these  his- 
torical plays.  This  monarch  was  one  of  England's 
great  kings.  His  life  was  a  life  of  constant  con- 
flict with  the  formidable  powers  of  York,  Northum- 
berland, and  Scotland.  Scotland  had  proved  her- 
self in  warlike  qualities  superior  to  England,  but 
not  so  in  the  reign  of  Henry  IV. ,  who  was  a  fight- 
ing king.  He  was  brave,  and  sometimes  cruel, 
with  murder  stains  on  his  hands  while  he  was  yet 
Bolingbroke.  He  was  wise  but  crafty,  yet  while 
battling  for  the  maintenance  of  his  own  throne,  he 
was  at  the  same  time  not  unmindful  of  the  rights  and 


HISTORICAL  PLAYS.  55 

liberties  of  the  English  people.  Shakespeare  repre- 
sents him  as  a  broad-minded  monarch  and  patriotic 
in  his  political  character  ;  he  was  even  religious,  as 
piety  went  in  those  days. 

In  the  very  beginning  of  the  play  the  king  says  : 

1 '  Whose  soldier  now,  under  whose  blessed  cross 
We  are  impressed  and  engaged  to  fight, 
Forthwith  a  power  of  English  shall  we  levy  ; 
Whose  arms  were  moulded  in  their  mothers'  womb 
To  chase  these  pagans  in  those  holy  fields 
Over  whose  acres  walk'd  those  blessed  feet 
Which  fourteen  hundred  years  ago  were  nail'd 
For  our  advantage  on  the  bitter  cross." 

He  had  an  eye  to  England's  welfare,  not  so 
much  expressed  in  the  technical  terms  of  political 
administration  as  in  potential  speeches  and  acts. 

Henry  IV.  died  in  1413,  and  the  tradition  that  he 
died  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  may  have  been  used 
by  Shakespeare  for  dramatic  effect,  as  well  as  the 
temporary  removal  of  the  crown  by  the  prince  and 
his  father's  solemn  admonition. 

The  character  of  Hotspur,  the  English  Achilles, 
hard  and  implacable,  forms  a  brilliant  episode  in 


56  THE  READING  OP  SHAKESPEARE. 

this  play.  Hotspur's  life  is  in  the  flash-light  of 
swords.  His  contempt  of  bedizened  aristocracy  is 
shown  in  his  description  of  the  frivolous  nobleman 
who  meets  him  to  deliver  a  message  on  the  field  of 
battle,  commencing  with  : 

"  But  I  remember,  when  the  fight  was  done." 

His  other  blunt,  soldierly  speeches  are  of  a  similar 
kind: 

"To  pluck  bright  honour  from  the  pale-fac'd  moon." 

"Tell  truth,  and  shame  the  devil." 

His  wife  whom  he  loved  was  second  to  the  love  of 
arms.  The  oestrus  of  battle  was  in  him. 

Hotspur — "How  now,  Kate!    I  must  leave  you  within 
these  two  hours." 

Lady  Percy—"  O  my  good  lord,  why  are  you  thus  alone  ?" 
"  Tell  me,  sweet  lord,  what  is  't  that  takes  from  thee  " 
"  Thy  golden  sleep?" 
"  In  thy  faint  slumbers  I  by  thee  have  watch'd, 

And  heard  thee  murmur  tales  of  iron  wars  ; 

Speak  terms  of  manage  to  thy  bounding  steed ; 

Cry  '  Courage !  to  the  field  ! '    And  thou  hast  talk'd 

Of  sallies  and  retires,  of  trenches,  tents, 

Of  palisadoes,  frontiers,  parapets, 

Of  basilisks,  of  cannon,  culverin, 


HISTORIC AL   PLAYS.  57 

Of  prisoners'  ransom,  and  of  soldiers  slain, 

And  all  the  currents  of  a  heady  fight. 

Thy  spirit  within  thee  hath  been  so  at  war 

And  thus  hath  so  bestirr'd  thee  in  thy  sleep, 

That  beads  of  sweat  hath  stood  upon  thy  brow, 

Like  bubbles  in  a  late-disturbed  stream  ; 

And  in  thy  face  strange  motions  hath  appear'd, 

Such  as  we  see  when  men  restrain  their  breath 

On  some  great  sudden  hest.  O,  what  portents  are  these  ? 

Some  heavy  business  hath  my  lord  in  hand, 

And  I  must  know  it,  else  he  loves  me  not." 

Hotspur—  "What,  ho!" 

Lady  Percy— "In  faith,  I'll  break  thy  little  finger,  Harry, 

An  if  thou  wilt  not  tell  me  all  things  true." 

Hotspur—"  God's  me,  my  horse  !  " 

It  is  a  great  leap  in  one  play  from  Hotspur  to 
Falstaff.  This  light  and  shade  give,  however,  an 
opportunity  for  the  practice  of  chiaroscuro,  as  in 
Rembrandt's  pictures,  and  also  as  it  sometimes 
occurs  in  nature  and  the  mind,  though  it  requires 
a  consummate  artist  to  make  use  of  this  bold  con- 
trast in  literature  ;  a  large  part  of  the  historic  play 
of  "  Henry  IV."  is  taken  up  with  the  "humours  of 
Falstaff."  The  name,  Sir  John  Falstaff,  was  evi- 
dently drawn  from  Sir  John  Falstoffe,  who  was  a 


58  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

real  character,  a  Lollard,  and  a  man  of  honorable 
reputation,  though  a  rebel  and  executed  in  the 
wars  of  the  times. 

Shakespeare  did  not  mean  to  defame  or  drag 
down  the  name  of  "  Oldcastle,"  another  name  of 
this  same  character,  to  whom  he  alludes  in  the 
Prologue ;  but  he  probably  took  the  name  at  ran- 
dom, as  a  well-known  one,  yet  it  is  unfortunate 
that  by  this  name  he  seemed  to  cast  a  slur  upon  a 
worthy  personage. 

Shakespeare  was  the  exact  contemporary  of  Cer- 
vantes, and  the  suspicion  is  aroused  that  as  Cer- 
vantes delineates  with  such  exquisite  humor  the 
demented  but  noble,  melancholy-visaged  Spanish 
knight,  Don  Quixote,  in  order  to  satirize  the  deca- 
dence of  Spanish  chivalry,  so  Shakespeare  might 
have  drawn  the  fat  knight,  Sir  John  Falstaff,  to 
throw  contempt  on  some  of  the  growing  falsities 
and  vulgarities  of  English  chivalry  and  knight- 
hood ;  in  all  probability  this  is  not  true,  for  both 
authors  were  too  original  to  take  one  character 
from  the  other. 

Falstaff  is  an  immoral,  lying  old  rascal,  but  has 


HISTORICAL  PLAYS.  59 

no  end  of  wit.  The  scene  of  his  representation  of 
the  king,  with  his  cushion  for  a  crown  and  his 
dagger  for  a  sceptre,  who  delivers  a  grave  repri- 
mand to  the  prince,  instances  his  rapid  seizure  of 
the  situation.  His  comments  on  his  wondrously 
spectral  squad  of  conscripts,  such  as — "  Mouldy, 
Cobweb,  Shadow,  Wart,  Feeble,  and  Bullcalf,"  are 
philosophical : 

Falstaff—' '  Good  enough  to  toss  ;  food  for  powder,  food 
for  powder ;  they'll  fill  a  pit  as  well  as  better." 

Falstaff—"Go  thy  ways,  old  Jack  ;  die  when  thou  wilt,  if 
manhood,  good  manhood,  be  not  forgot  upon  the  face  of  the 
earth,  then  am  I  a  shotten  herring.  There  lives  not  three 
good  men  unhanged  in  England ;  and  one  of  them  is  fat, 
and  grows  old  :  God  help  the  while !  a  bad  world,  I  say. 
I  would  I  were  a  weaver ;  I  could  sing  psalms  or  anything. 
A  plague  of  all  cowards,  I  say  still.' 

Falstaff—"  But  to  say  I  know  more  harm  in  him  than  in 
myself,  were  to  say  more  than  I  know.  That  he  is  old,  the 
more  the  pity,  his  white  hairs  do  witness  it ;  but  that  he  is, 
saving  your  reverence,  a  whoremaster,  that  I  utterly  deny. 
If  sack  and  sugar  be  a  fault,  God  help  the  wicked  !  if  to  be 
old  and  merry  be  a  sin,  then  many  an  old  host  that  I  know 
is  damned  :  if  to  be  fat  be  to  be  hated,  then  Pharaoh's  lean 
kine  are  to  be  loved.  No,  my  good  lord ;  banish  Peto, 


60  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

banish  Bardolph,  banish  Poins  :  but  for  sweet  Jack  Falstaff, 
kind  Jack  Falstaff,  true  Jack  Falstaff,  valiant  Jack  Falstaff, 
and  therefore  more  valiant,  being,  as  he  is,  old  Jack 
Falstaff,  banish  not  him  thy  Harry's  company,  banish  not 
him  thy  Harry's  company  :  banish  plump  Jack,  and  banish 
all  the  world." 

How  rapidly  the  men  in    buckram  suits  grew  in 
number : 
Falstaff—"  Two  rogues  in  buckram  suits." 

"  Four  rogues  in  buckram  let  drive  at  me." 

Falstaff  will  last  as  long  as  Hamlet,  and  is  immortal. 
This  foul-mouthed,  wicked  old  rogue  is  the 
exponent  or  expression  of  the  material  nature, 
with  the  infusion  of  a  keen  intellectual  element 
turned  to  baseness.  Its  humor  saves  it  from 
obscenity  that  corrupts.  Its  good-natured  coarse- 
ness doubtless  appealed  to  the  gross  English  palate 
of  the  age.  In  Falstaff  the  English  mind  saw  its 
own  abominations,  and  the  electric  lightning  of  his 
wit  seemed  to  cleanse  the  foul  marsh,  and  to  make 
it  a  subject  for  ridicule  and  contempt. 

Speaking  to  the  prince's  very  face,  he  says  : 
"  It  is  certain  that  either  wise  bearing  or  ignorant  carriage 
is  caught,  as  men  take  diseases,  one  of  another ;  therefore, 
let  men  take  heed  of  their  company." 


HISTORICAL  PLAYS.  6l 

The  famous  line  descriptive  of  the  death  of  Fal- 
staff — "  a'  babbled  of  green  fields,"  does  not  seem 
to  me  to  exhibit  a  poetic  thought,  but  rather  a  flit- 
ting reminiscence  of  England's  green  meadows  and 
of  a  country  inn,  with  unlimited  "  sack." 

MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR. 

This  roistering  play  was,  according  to  an  unau- 
thenticated  tradition,  written  in  1602  at  the  com- 
mand of  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  required  Shake- 
speare to  write  a  play  of  Sir  John  Falstaff  in  love. 
It  was  finished  in  two  weeks,  and  composed  after 
"  Henry  V.,"  but  in  point  of  successive  time  comes 
between  the  plays  of  "Henry  IV."  and  "Henry 
V.,"  and  one  of  the  characters  is  supposed  to  be 
identical  with  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  of  the  deer-poach- 
ing affair.  The  real  Thomas  Lucy  died  in  1600. 
The  scene  is  laid  partly  in  Windsor  Forest,  but  is 
more  like  Arden  Wood,  which  touches  dear  War- 
wickshire scenery,  and  runs  through  so  many  of 
Shakespeare's  plays. 

Herne's  oak,  around  which  the  midnight  revels 
ran,  existed  until  modern  times. 


62          THE;  READING  OP  SHAKESPEARE. 

Shallow  says,  reminding  us  of  Sir  Thomas  I,ucy  : 

"You  have  beaten  my  men,  killed  my  deer,  and  broke 
open  my  lodge." 

Slender—"  If  I  be  drunk,  I'll  be  drunk  with  those  that 
have  a  fear  of  God,  and  not  with  drunken  knaves." 

Pistol—"  '  Convey,  the  wise  call  it.  '  Steal !'  foh  !  a  fico 
for  the  phrase." 

Pistol— "Why,  then  the  world's  mine  oyster, 
Which  I  with  sword  will  open." 

Sweet  Anne  Page  is  a  pretty  and  simple  maiden, 
and  Shallow's  lackadaisical  nature  is  suddenly 
immersed  in  a  sort  of  scared  love.  The  whole  is 
a  rtide  and  boorish,  but  picturesque,  old  English 
village  scene. 

"The  Merry  Wives"  are  merry  wives  indeed, 
and  they  cunningly  plot  against  the  old  knight  to 
lure  him  on  to  utter  overthrow,  with  a  mirth- 
loving  looseness  of  behavior.  Falstaff  himself 
walks  in  this  play  in  his  most  glorious  pomp  of 
libertine  excess.  In  his  words  with  Pistol  and  his 
talks  with  the  disreputable  woman  who  keeps  the 
inn,  and  in  other  scenes,  he  is  the  same  scurrilous, 
wicked  old  man,  presuming  somewhat  on  his 
knighthood,  but  low  to  the  depths  in  character. 


HISTORICAL  PLAYS.  63 

The  examination  of  the  boy  in  his  ' '  accidence ' ' 
has  some  allusion  to  Shakespeare's  school-boy  days 
at  Stratford.  The  ribald  knight  gets  fairly  pun- 
ished at  Herne's  oak.  The  play  must  have  been 
an  uproarious  one,  and  set  the  queen,  her  grave 
counsellors,  the  nobility,  and  the  common  peo- 
ple into  fits  of  laughter. 

The  scene  may  even  now  be  imagined  by  one 
walking  at  moonlight  in  the  glades  and  amid  the 
oaks  of  Windsor  Park.  * 


KINO  HENRY  V. 

The  play  of  "Henry  V."  was  probably  first 
brought  out  in  1599,  and  written  in  that  golden 
period  of  the  poet's  life.  It  was  contemporary 
with  the  "Merry  Wives  of  Windsor." 

There  is  no  positive  historical  confirmation  of 
the  lawless  character  of  the  "mad-cap  prince" 
before  his  own  coronation,  but  there  may  have 
been  a  tradition  of  this  in  the  old  chronicles,  some 
of  the  wild  pranks  of  youth,  which  Shakespeare 
seized  upon  for  the  dramatic  effect. 


64  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

Henry  V.  has  come  down  to  us  in  history  as 
a  noble  prince.  Even  before  he  came  to  the  throne 
he  assisted  his  father  in  war  and  government,  and 
gave  promise  of  being  himself  the  great  monarch 
that  he  afterwards  became.  He  represented  the 
best  qualities  of  British  chivalry  and  heroic  valor. 

He  who  has  not  read  Shakespeare's  play  of 
1 '  Henry  V. ' '  has  lost  the  most  dazzling  page  of 
England's  medieval  period  ;  when  great  personages 
walked  over  the  scene  clad  in  gleaming  steel  ;  when 
her  arms  beat  down  into  absolute  submission  the 
French  monarchy  and  annexed  the  fields  of  sunny 
France. 

Henry  V.  was  a  brave  and  sagacious  king,  but  as 
a  Roman  Catholic  ruler  he  was  sometimes  cruel  in 
persecution.  He  finally  quelled  all  revolutionary 
efforts  at  home,  even  the  fierce  attacks  of  Scotland, 
as  Henry  V.  himself  said  : 

"  For  you  shall  read  that  my  great-grandfather, 
Never  went  with  his  forces  into  France, 
But  that  the  Scot  on  his  unfurnish'd  kingdom 
Came  pouring,  like  the  tide  into  a  breach." 

He  sailed  for  France  with  banners  flying  over  a 


HISTORICAL  PLAYS.  65 

small  but  invincible  host.     Canterbury  said  of  the 
army  : 

"Full  fifteen  earls  and  fifteen  hundred  knights, 
Six  thousand  and  two  hundred  good  esquires." 

The  central  point  of  the  whole  play  is  the  battle 
of  Agincourt,  which  took  place  after  hard  toil  and 
fighting  in  France.  Just  before  the  battle  took 
place,  the  constable  of  France  described  the  British 
half-starved  forces  in  these  words  : 

41  Do  but  behold  yon  poor  and  starved  band, 
And  your  fair  show  shall  suck  away  their  souls, 
Leaving  them  but  the  shales  and  husks  of  men. 
There  is  not  work  enough  for  all  our  hands  ; 
Scarce  blood  enough  in  all  their  sickly  veins 
To  give  each  naked  curtle-axe  a  stain, 
That  our  French  gallants  shall  to-day  draw  out, 
And  sheathe  for  lack  of  sport." 

The  deepest  portions  in  the  play  consist  of 
Henry  V.'s  utterances  and  soliloquies  the  night 
before  the  battle,  showing  a  burdened  but  indomi- 
table spirit.  He  says  to  Gloucester  : 

"  Gloucester,  'tis  true  that  we  are  in  great  danger  ; 
The  greater  therefore  should  our  courage  be." 
5 


66  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

"God  Almighty! 

There  is  some  soul  of  goodness  in  things  evil, 
Would  men  observingly  distil  it  out." 

"'Tis  good  for  men  to  love  their  present  pains 
Upon  example  ;  so  the  spirit  is  eased  : 
And  when  the  mind  is  quicken 'd,  out  of  doubt, 
The  organs,  though  defunct  and  dead  before, 
Break  up  their  drowsy  grave  and  newly  move, 
With  casted  slough  and  fresh  legerity." 

He  walked  unrecognized  through  his  camp  and 
talked  with  his  soldiers  in  words  that  show  his 
humanity.  One  of  the  soldiers  says  to  him  while 
he  was  unknown  : 

Bates— "  He  hath  not  told  his  thought  to  the  king  ?  " 
King  Henry — "  No  ;  nor  it  is  not  meet  he  should.  For, 
though  I  speak  it  to  you,  I  think  the  king  is  but  a  man  as  I 
am:  the  violet  smells  to  him  as  it  doth  to  me  ;  the  element 
shows  to  him  as  it  doth  to  me  ;  all  his  senses  have  but  human 
conditions :  his  ceremonies  laid  by,  in  his  nakedness  he 
appears  but  a  man ;  and  though  his  affections  are  higher 
mounted  than  ours,  yet,  when  they  stoop,  they  stoop  with 
the  like  wing." 

He  soliloquizes : 

King— "  Not  all  these,  laid  in  bed  majestical, 
Can  sleep  so  soundly  as  the  wretched  slave, 


HISTORICAL  PLAYS.  67 

Who  with  a  body  fill'd  and  vacant  mind 

Gets  him  to  rest,  cramm'd  with  distressful  bread.'* 

' '  And,  but  for  ceremony,  such  a  wretch 
Winding  up  day  with  toil,  and  nights  with  sleep, 
Had  the  fore-hand  and  vantage  of  a  king." 

"  O  God  of  battles  !  steel  my  soldiers'  hearts  ; 
Possess  them  not  with  fear ;  take  from  them  now 
The  sense  of  reckoning,  if  the  opposed  numbers 
Pluck  their  hearts  from  them.     Not  to-day,  O  Lord." 

"More  will  I  do; 

Though  all  that  I  can  do  is  nothing  worth, 
Since  that  my  penitence  comes  after  all, 
Imploring  pardon." 

41  This  day  is  call'd  the  feast  of  Crispian  : 
He  that  outlives  this  day,  and  comes  safe  home, 
Will  stand  a  tip-toe  when  this  day  is  named, 
And  rouse  him  at  the  name  ef  Crispian." 
"  Then  will  he  strip  his  sleeve  and  show  his  scars, 
And  say  'These  wounds  I  had  on  Crispin's  day.'  " 

This  is  a  speech  of  the  heroic  English  epic, 
and  shows  the  poet's  own  manliness.  The  glitter- 
ing ranks  of  France  fell  before  the  long  ash-tree 
bows  of  England.  Cr£cy  and  Agincourt  gave  Brit- 
ish valor  the  domination  in  France,  down  even  to 
the  battle  of  Waterloo. 


68  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

King  Henry's  gay  and  half  French  talk  with 
Katharine  lights  up  the  grim  features  of  war,  and 
makes  the  play  end  in  jocund  peace,  when  all  diffi- 
culties are  dispelled  and  all  foes  overcome,  and 
Henry  returns  with  his  French  bride  to  the  shores 
of  merrie  England. 

HE1TKY  VI 

The  authorship  of  the  play  of  "  Henry  VI."  in 
three  parts,  or  the  most  of  it,  has  been  so  fully  and 
even  fiercely  discussed  that  the  part  Shakespeare 
played  in  it  still  remains  greatly  in  doubt,  but  this 
critical  discussion  is  not  my  present  aim.  It  has 
been  thoroughly  done  by  other  earlier  and  modern 
writers,  and  still  is  a  central  pivot  of  stormy  con- 
troversy and  is  well  worth  our  study  ;  whether  he 
composed  the  whole  of  it  or  composed  no  part  of  it, 
but  merely  arranged  it  for  the  Globe  Theatre,  is  a 
difficult  question.  He  doubtless  had  in  some  way 
a  hand  in  it,  but  the  plot  and  composition  look 
more  to  Marlowe's  or  Greene's  authorship.  The 
entire  reversals  of  historic  fact  and  the  shocking 
ill-treatment,  for  example,  of  the  lofty  and.  mystic 


HISTORICAL  PLAYS.  69 

character  of  Joan  of  Arc,  would  seem  to  be  entirely 
opposed  to  the  spirit  of  the  truthful  and  ' '  gentle 
Will, ' '  but  it  is  possible  that  in  his  youthful  eager- 
ness to  push  on  the  success  of  the  Globe  Theatre, 
he  yielded  to  the  pressure  of  the  royal  and  courtly 
party  and  the  stern  censorship  of  the  stage  at  that 
period.  It  may  be  he  could  not  well  face  the 
clamorous  position  of  the  British  public  in  the 
matter  of  English  courage  in  France  ;  at  any  rate, 
the  whole  is  beneath  the  standard  of  the  other  his- 
torical plays. 

It  is  without  loftiness,  and  is  painful  and  sad. 

King  Henry  VI.,  only  child  of  Henry  V.,  was  a 
gentle  and  pure-minded  man,  but  no  hero.  He 
was  never  quite  a  king,  and  in  his  long  regency  he 
was  the  prey  of  furious  factions.  His  armies  in 
France  gradually  lost  all  that  Henry  V.  had  won, 
and  his  own  death  gave  immediate  rise  to  the 
sanguinary  "Wars  of  the  Roses."  There  would 
seem  to  be  a  few  touches  of  Shakespearean  power 
in  this  drama.  The  whole  death  scene  of  Cardinal 
Beaufort  is  striking : 


70  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

Henry  VI—"  How  fares  my  lord  ?  speak,  Beaufort,  to 
thy  sovereign." 

Cardinal— -"If  thou  be'st  death,  I'll  give  thee  Eng- 
land's treasure, 

Enough  to  purchase  such  another  island, 
So  thou  wilt  let  me  live,  and  feel  no  pain.'* 

Henry  VI— "  Ah,  what  a  sign  it  is  of  evil  life, 
Where  death's  approach  is  seen  so  terrible  !  " 

Cardinal — ' '  Bring  me  unto  my  trial  when  you  will. 
Died  he  not  in  his  bed  ?  where  should  he  die  ? 
Can  I  make  men  live,  whether  they  will  or  no  ? 
O,  torture  me  no  more  !     I  will  confess. 
Alive  again  ?  then  show  me  where  he  is  : 
I'll  give  a  thousand  pounds  to  look  upon  him. 
He  hath  no  eyes,  the  dust  hath  blinded  them. 
Comb  down  his  hair  ;  look,  look  !  it  stands  upright, 
Like  lime-twigs  set  to  catch  my  winged  soul. 
Give  me  some  drink  ;  and  bid  the  apothecary 
Bring  the  strong  poison  that  I  bought  of  him." 

—"®  thou  eternal  mover  of  the  heavens, 
with  a  gentle  eye  upon  this  wretch  ! 
O,  beat  away  the  busy  meddling  fiend 
That  lays  strong  siege  unto  this  wretch's  soul, 
And  from  his  bosom  purge  this  black  despair  !  " 

Warwick—"  See,  how  the  pangs  of  death  do  make 
him  grin ! " 


HISTORICAL   PLAYS.  71 

Salisbury — "Disturb  him  not;  let  him  pass  peace- 
ably." 

King — "  Peace  to  his  soul,  if  God's  good  pleasure  be  1 
Lord  cardinal,  if  thou  think'st  on  heaven's  bliss, 
Hold  up  thy  hand,  make  signal  of  thy  hope. 
He  dies,  and  makes  no  sign.     O  God,  forgive  him  !  " 


HENRY 

This  is  a  rich,  spectacular  drama,  written  near 
the  end  of  the  poet's  life,  and  portraying  the 
decline  of  British  chivalry  of  the  more  showy  and 
less  warlike  period,  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold, 
and  also  of  the  decline  of  the  ' '  pride,  pomp  and 
circumstance  of  glorious  war. ' ' 

There  are  two  theories  in  regard  to  the  date  of 
this  play  ;  one  is,  that  it  was  composed  in  the  time 
of  Queen  Elizabeth  to  defend  the  character  of  her 
mother,  Anne  Boleyn,  and  another,  that  it  was 
brought  out  in  the  reign  of  James  I.  and  founded 
on  a  previous  drama. 

The  proud  figure  of  Cardinal  Wolsey  and  his 
solemn  words  of  repentance  for  his  sin  of  serving 


72  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

two  masters— God  and  the  world,  God  and  the 
king — still  powerfully  reverberate  in  men's  deepest 
consciousness. 

These  historical  plays,  written  from  a  heart  full 
of  the  patriotism  of  a  truly  British  soul,  were  evi- 
dently thrown  off  originally  in  his  youthful  days 
for  the  stage,  and  had  their  plot,  it  may  be,  in  some 
instances  from  previous  plays,  but  in  them  all 
there  are  traces  of  Shakespeare's  revision  and 
inimitable  genius.  These  touches  or  marks  of 
Shakespearean  genius  are  plainly  discernible  wher- 
ever they  occur,  and  I  have  sometimes  exemplified 
this  to  myself  by  a  homely  illustration,  which 
would  apply  both  to  Shakespeare  and  Homer. 

The  explorer  in  the  dark  forest  of  mid- Africa 
comes  across  a  spring  of  pure  water,  which  wild 
beasts  visit  at  night  to  quench  their  thirst.  All 
kinds,  small  and  great,  come  ;  on  the  sandy  marge 
of  the  spring  or  pond  are  innumerable  tracks 
of  these  nightly  visitants,  but  across  them  all  are 
great  prints,  effacing  the  smaller  ones,  which  are 
the  marks  of  the  lion  alone,  unmistakable  and  awe- 
inspiring. 


COMEDIES.  73 

COMEDIES. 
CYMBELINE. 

Comedy  is  usually  a  play  where  the  ludicrous  or, 
better,  the  humorous  element  is  prominently  set 
forth  in  opposition  to  tragedy,  which  stirs  deeper 
emotions ;  but  in  the  older  classic  and  Italian  use 
of  the  word,  as  in  Dante's  "  Divina  Commedia,"  it 
is  applied  to  the  Middle  Style,  admitting,  indeed, 
the  elegant  and  poetic,  but  running  usually  in  the 
common  form  of  dialogue,  both  high  and  low. 

The  play  I  now  take  up,  "  Cymbeline,"  is  an 
instance  of  this.  It  is  neither  comedy  nor  tragedy, 
but  may  be  classed  under  the  form  of  comedy 
according  to  the  definition  of  this  term  which  has 
just  been  given. 

It  is  laid  on  British  soil  in  an  ancient  period, 
whether  real  or  fictitious,  and  like  "  King  I^ear," 
"  Macbeth,"  and  all  Shakespeare's  dramas,  wher- 
ever their  scene  is  laid,  has,  as  I  have  said,  a 
smack  of  Warwickshire  and  Arden  Forest ;  yet  in 
spite  of  this,  there  is  no  merely  local  type  of  char- 
acter exclusively  evolved,  either  Greek  or  Roman, 


74  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

Italian,  French,  or  English,  but  a  pure  humanity  as 
the  basis  of  all.  There  is,  however,  in  some  of  the 
poet's  dramas,  as  in  one  character,  at  least,  in  this 
play  of  "  Cymbeline,"  a  certain  prof ound  subjectiv- 
ity of  thought. 

This  play,  which  has  been  sometimes  supposed 
to  belong  to  a  more  youthful  stage  of  Shakespeare's 
works,  is,  by  more  thoughtful  critics,  assigned  to  the 
period  of  his  later  dramas,  such  as  ' '  Hamlet ' '  and 
"Othello."  Its  style  is  too  serious  for  my  defini- 
tion of  comedy,  and  though  it  does  not  exhibit  traces 
of  exalted  poetry,  it  is  clear  and  simple  in  its  prose. 

It  reminds  one  both  of  barbarism  and  civiliza- 
tion, and  if  its  figures  are  dressed  in  British  tunics 
or  Roman  brazen  armor,  this  is  of  little  consequence. 

None  of  Shakespeare's  women,  or  those  of  any 
other  dramatist,  equal  Imogen's  feminine  perfec- 
tion of  womanly  purity  that  springs  from  the  cen- 
tral principle  of  feminine  nature.  It  is  genuine 
and  unconscious — one  lustrous  immaculate  pearl. 
It  is  the  essence  of  love,  natural,  gentle,  patient, 
enduring,  thinking  no  evil. 

Imogen  forgives  her  most  treacherous  enemies, 


COMEDIES.  75 

and  seems  to  harbor  no  revenge,  is  ready  to  obey 
her  husband's  letter  that  she  be  killed,  is  true  to 
his  love,  is  unchanging  in  her  patience,  unswerv- 
ing in  her  affection.  This  is  the  deep  lesson  of  the 
drama. 

Imogen's  character  needs  no  ornament ;  it  is 
born  of  perfect  love —innate,  spiritual,  and  divine. 
No  female  personage  of  Shakespeare's  plays  sinks 
more  quietly,  more  indelibly  into  the  mind  of  the 
reader. 

It  is  strange  that  few  plays  contain  more  Homeric 
and  classical  allusions  fitly  applied  than  ' '  Cymbe- 
line." 

Shakespeare  must  have  read  the  Iliad,  it  may 
be  of  Chapman's  translation,  aided  by  what  of  the 
Greek  language  he  knew.  Shakespeare  was  an 
educated  man.  He  had  the  culture  that  was  com- 
prehended in  his  age.  If  modern  science  had  then 
existed  he  would  have  delighted  in  its  wonderful 
progress,  as  his  marvelous  guesses  in  respect  to  the 
circulation  of  the  blood,  the  electric  currents  in  the 
atmosphere,  and  the  law  of  evolution  in  "  The  Tem- 
pest "  show.  Sir  Thomas  Brown's  observations  on 


76  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

the  dew-claws  of  dogs  and  the  left-footedness  of 
parrots  betoken  original  scientific  observation,  but 
Shakespeare,  as  one  who  reached  the  inner  spirit 
beneath  the  fact,  thus  linking  nature  with  the 
human  soul,  and  saw  the  divine  beauty  of  the 
starry  firmament — the  prophet  poet — was  the 
greater  genius  ;  but  I  believe  his  calm  reason  look- 
ing before  and  after  would  have  led  him  in  the 
advancement  of  science  to  something  like  conser- 
vatism. 

Another  striking  figure  in  "  Cymbeline,"  that 
forms  a  strong  contrast  to  Imogen,  is  the  Queen, 
who  is  a  British  Medea  of  masculine  barbarity  as 
well  as  intelligence.  She  supplements  her  weaker 
husband.  Her  description  of  England,  though  not 
exactly  scientific,  is  wonderfully  true  : 

Queen — "  Remember,  sir,  my  liege, 
The  kings  your  ancestors,  together  with 
The  natural  bravery  of  your  isle,  which  stands 
As  Neptune's  park,  ribbed  and  paled  in 
With  rocks  unscaleable  and  roaring  waters, 
With  sands  that  will  not  bear  your  enemies'  boats, 
But  suck  them  up  to  the  topmast.     A  kind  of  conquest 
Caesar  made  here  ;  but  made  not  here  his  brag 


COMEDIES.  77 

Of '  came,  and  saw,  and  overcame  : '  with  shame — 
The  first  that  ever  touch' d  him — he  was  carried 
From  our  coast,  twice  beaten  ;  and  his  shipping — 
Poor  ignorant  baubles  ! — on  our  terrible  seas, 
Like  egg-shells  moved  upon  their  surges,  crack'd 
As  easily  'gainst  our  rocks." 

It  is  strange  that  in  such  an  oppressive  drama, 
dragging  the  mind  downward  by  its  expectant  ill, 
there  could  have  sprung  up  the  most  beautiful 
golden  lyric  that  exists ;  most  musical,  singing 
itself,  thus  beginning : 

"  Hark,  hark  !  the  lark  at  heaven's  gate  sings, 

And  Phoebus  'gins  arise, 
His  steeds  to  water  at  those  springs 
On  chalked  flowers  that  lies." 

This  lovely  expression  of  "  chaliced  flowers  "  is 
one  of  the  many  illustrations  that  showed  Shake- 
speare' s  genuine  love  of  flowers.  He  observes  their 
peculiarities  of  form  and  color,  symbolic  meaning, 
and  poetic  expression.  I  would  not,  for  one,  have 
the  Shakespearean  garden  changed  into  a  botanic 
hortus  siccus,  invaluable  as  it  is  to  the  advance- 
ment of  scientific  knowledge.  For  in  turning  over 


78  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

those  withered  leaves,  I  would  not  forget  that  this 
dried  flower,  for  example,  may  have  nodded  in 
its  beautiful  blue  color  from  the  icy  summit  of  an 
Alpine  cliff,  or  that  this  one  grew  in  a  savage 
western  wilderness  and  formed  its  only  ornament, 
or  that  this  dead  lily  rested  in  life  on  the  broad 
waters  of  the  Amazon,  or  that  this,  the  desert  ere- 
mite, too  small  even  for  fragrance,  has  cheered  the 
heart  of  the  weary  traveller  over  the  burning  sands 
of  Arabia,  saying  to  him,  "up  heart,  there  is  still 
hope  for  thee  !  "  So  nature  seemed  to  open  its 
secrets  to  the  poet.  Nature  is  beautiful  in  its 
own  forms,  and  organic  nature  runs  in  curvilinear, 
not  straight,  lines  ;  ever  aspiring,  like  the  vine,  to 
climb  in  spirals  higher  and  higher  into  the  free  air. 
This  seemed  to  be  Shakespeare's  view  of  it  in  the 
life  of  flowers. 

The  two  speakers  who  open  the  first  act  of  the 
play  talk  naturally,  explaining  the  circumstances 
of  the  drama.  There  is  rarely  a  coarse  phrase. 
The  I,atin  pun  on  muliernesir  the  end  is,  to  say 
the  least,  amusingly  elaborate. 


COMEDIES.  79 

AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

This  is  a  rich  comedy  in  the  best  sense  of  the 
word,  full  of  genial  humor,  sparkling  wit,  and 
pleasing  nature.  The  scene  of  this  glorious  open- 
air  play  is,  to  be  sure,  placed  in  Bordeaux  and  the 
Forest  of  Ardennes  in  France,  but  is  really  laid 
in  English  Warwickshire,  and  in  close  touch  with 
Sherwood  Forest  and  the  ballad  poetry. 

In  this  very  play  it  is  said : 

"They  say  he  is  already  in  the  Forest  of  Arden,  and  a 
many  merry  men  with  him  ;  and  there  they  live  like  the  old 
Robin  Hood  of  England  :  they  say  many  young  men  flock 
to  him  every  day,  and  fleet  the  time  carelessly,  as  they  did 
in  the  golden  world." 

Shakespeare  loved  his  native  land,  and  built  up 
his  visionary  on  the  real.  We  are,  in  the  play,  in 
a  great  shadowy  forest,  with  oaks  here  and  there, 
sunny  green  spots,  and  a  group  of  foresters  in 
Lincoln  green,  with  long  yew  bows,  spears,  and 
bugles,  such  as  the  outlaws  of  English  legend  bore. 

Orlando,  banished,  had  gone  to  them,  who 
though  exiled,  was  a  brave  man,  capable  of  love. 
He  shows  his  courage  in  slaying  the  lioness  that 


80  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

"with  udders  all  drawn  dry, 

Lay  couching,  head  on  ground,  with  catlike  watch, 
When  that  the  sleeping  man  should  stir  ;  for  'tis 
The  royal  disposition  of  that  beast 
To  prey  on  nothing  that  doth  seem  as  dead." 

Orlando  sends  his  bloody  handkerchief  to  Rosa- 
lind. The  plot  is  a  story  illustrating  three  degrees 
of  love,  a  charming  comedy,  perhaps  more  popu- 
larly read  than  any  other,  in  which  Shakespeare 
recalls  his  romantic  youth  of  careless  pleasure 
mingled  with  some  serious  thoughts  of  misspent 
time  that  awake  upbraidings  of  conscience.  He 
speaks  in  the  words  of  the  whilom  courtier,  "  the 
melancholy  Jaques." 

Jaques  is  not  a  bitter  satirist  of  life,  and  his 
reflections  are  softened  by  the  solitude  of  nature 
and  the  pensive  reflections  of  an  amiable  humor. 
There  is  a  laugh  at  the  bottom  of  his  contempt  and 
a  charity  for  human  faults.  The  wounded  stag 
gives  him  his  allegory,  in  which  pathos  is  mixed 
with  scorn,  pity  for  the  poor  animal,  and  contempt 
for  the  shams  of  life.  The  philosophic  mind  in  the 
poet  is  awakened,  and  the  thoughts  of  an  earnest 


COMEDIES.  8 1 

spirit  well  up  from  deeper  springs.  The  world 
shut  out,  conscience  speaks  in  the  calmer  eventime. 

Jaques  is  called  a  ''fool,"  as  well  as  Touch- 
stone ;  the  folly  consists  in  carrying  the  contem- 
plative spirit  beyond  its  bounds,  and  becoming 
critic  instead  of  actor,  throwing  up  the  fight ;  but 
Jaques  is  at  heart  good  and  kindly,  whom  life  has 
somewhat  saddened  and  disgusted.  It  has  been 
said  truly  that  the  only  blot  in  this  delightful 
comedy  is  in  betrothing  Celia  to  Oliver  instead  of 
to  Jaques. 

Rosalind  is  the  sparkling  gem,  the  heroine, 
though  the  question  is  not  settled  which  of  the  two 
maids  is  the  taller.  Rosalind  has  a  witty  mind, 
and  remains  arch  and  tricksome  to  the  last,  even 
in  the  epilogue.  She  is  a  bit  mannish,  like  a  lively 
boy  playing  both  sexes,  delightful  to  the  end  as 
a  beauteous  woodlawn  sprite. 

It  is  life  under  the  greenwood  tree.  Shake- 
speare enters  the  region  of  romance,  takes  down 
the  bars,  and  lets  us  into  the  broad  fields  of  the 
imagination,  where  we  rejoice  to  wander  released 

from  all  care  and  restlessness. 
6 


82  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

The  style  is  easy  and  that  of  the  common  life, 
not  of  the  inflated  romance  taken  from  Spain  and 
France  of  that  day.  Shakespeare,  as  mentioned, 
was  the  contemporary  of  Cervantes,  and  both  of 
them  as  reformers  returned  to  their  country's 
idiomatic  speech. 

Homely  words,  as  in  these  examples  : 

"Let  the  world  slide." 

" He  drew  a  dial  from  his  poke," 

the  old  Norman  French  for  pocket. 

The  pun  where  "goats"  and  "Goths"  are 
interchanged  is  likewise  an  illustration  of  this  ordi- 
nary speech.  The  man  who  said  he  liked  Shake- 
speare because  he  was  so  full  of  quotations  might 
find  much  in  "As  You  Like  It"  to  confirm  his 
opinion,  as  in  the  words : 

"  All  the  world's  a  stage, 
And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players." 

"  Whoever  loves  that  loved  not  at  first  sight." 
14  Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity." 

' '  Find  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks, 
Sermons  in  stones  and  good  in  everything." 


COMEDIES.  83 

Gay,  bright,  and  changing,  it  is  Shakespeare's 
thoughts  out  of  the  fullness  of  youth,  and  of  his 
growing  philosophy.  The  times  are  mirrored  in 
his  play,  when  the  poet  talks  of  "  South  Sea  bub- 
ble," and  the  common  contrast  of  forces,  organic 
and  inorganic,  when  he  speaks  of  ' '  breaking  his 
shins  against  it." 

A  noble  contrast  is  drawn  between  Fortune  and 
Nature,  the  former  giving  only  "the  world's 
gifts,"  the  other  showing  us  the  eternal  lineaments 
of  the  permanent  and  divine. 

Swearing  by  his  honor  who  had  no  Fortune, 
reigns  in  gifts  of  the  world,  not  in  the  lineaments 
of  Nature. 

No  more  healthful  and  happy  counsel  for  a  tem- 
perate life,  packed  in  a  few  words,  could  have  been 
devised  than  the  speech  of  old  Adam  : 

"  Though  I  look  old,  yet  I  am  strong  and  lusty ; 
For  in  my  youth  I  never  did  apply 
Hot  and  rebellious  liquors  in  my  blood, 
Nor  did  not  with  unbashful  forehead  woo 
The  means  of  weakness  and  debility  ; 
Therefore  my  age  is  as  a  lusty  winter, 
Frosty,  but  kindly." 


84  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

THE  TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 
This  play  appeared  in  the  first  folio  edition  of 
Shakespeare's  works,  and  was  written  probably 
about  1574.  It  was  undoubtedly  adapted  from 
Marlowe,  but  what  was  Shakespeare's  bears  his 
own  stamp. 

A  beautiful  young  woman  with  a  vixenish  tem- 
per, whose 

"  tongue  will  tell  the  anger  of  [her]  heart, 
Or  else  [her]  heart  concealing  it  will  break," 

and  a  lover  and  husband  determined  to  have  his 
way,  no  matter  how  rough-shod,  and  we  have  the 
plot.  A  big  man  with  a  hunter's  whip  snapping, 
and  louder  language,  is  not  the  modern  means  of 
settling  love  disputes,  or  of  bringing  about  har- 
mony in  marital  relations,  though  it  may  have 
better  suited  Shakespeare's  times. 

"The  Inception,"  so  called,  was  possibly  taken 
from  the  story  in  "Arabian  Nights"  of  "Abu- 
Hassan,  the  wag,  in  the  Caliph's  palace,"  and 
the  play  is  one  within  a  play,  a  device  used  more 
than  once  by  the  dramatist. 


COMEDIES.  85 

The  comedy  begins  when  Katharine  enters 
on  the  scene.  She  makes  matters  lively ;  she 
treats  her  gentle  sister  like  a  slave,  but  the 
"shrew"  meets  a  rock.  The  masculine  will 
conquers  even  by  brutal  impertinence  and  affected 
cruelty,  while  the  better  element  is  radical  and 
really  prevails. 

The  scriptural  precept  that  the  wife  should  obey 
her  husband  is  acknowledged  and  confirmed  in 
Kate's  speech  at  the  end  : 

"  A  woman  moved  is  like  a  fountain  troubled, 
Muddy,  ill-seeming,  thick,  bereft  of  beauty  ; 
And  while  it  is  so,  none  so  dry  or  thirsty 
Will  deign  to  sip  or  touch  one  drop  of  it. 
Thy  husband  is  thy  lord,  thy  life,  thy  keeper, 
Thy  head,  thy  sovereign  ;  one  that  cares  for  thee, 
And  for  thy  maintenance  commits  his  body 
To  painful  labour  both  by  sea  and  land, 
To  watch  the  night  in  storms,  the  day  in  cold, 
Whilst  thou  liest  warm  at  home,  secure  and  safe  ; 
And  craves  no  other  tribute  at  thy  hands 
But  love,  fair  looks  and  true  obedience." 

It  is  to  be  supposed  that  some  unconscious  sense 
of  love  is  awakened  in  both.  But  praise  for  thy 
sweet  humility,  brave  Kate  ! 


86  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

The  lofty  spiritual  height  of  St.  Paul's  doctrine 
concerning  the  marriage  state  and  its  unity,  its 
likeness  to  heavenly  things,  was  not  reached. 

The  true  equality  of  the  sexes  and  the  freedom 
of  woman  are  not  realized  in  this  conception  ;  but 
the  rough  lesson  taught  is  not  a  bad  one,  even  in 
this  present  time  of  so  many  mercenary  marriages 
and  shameful  divorces. 

Petruchio  and  Katharine  are  strong  Shakespear- 
ean characters  that  will  live.  They  are  Shake- 
speare at  play,  the  lion  free  in  his  gamboling. 
Petruchio  is  a  masculine  figure,  strong  and  rude, 
but  loves  his  wife  while  abusing  her.  He  meets 
fire  with  fire  ;  "  kills  her  in  her  own  humour. ' '  He 
woos  her  in  his  love  speeches  shown  in  his  outra- 
geous behavior.  He  denies  her  reason.  He  makes 
her  to  say  the  sun  is  the  moon  and  the  moon 
the  sun,  as  he  lists.  This  is  abominable,  but  it 
effects  his  purpose  ;  drastic,  but  Kate  was  made 
over  as  Lucretia  Borgia  was  made  over,  by  a  good 
marriage. 

Something  in  the  rugged  strength  of  Petruchio 
is  said  to  have  aroused  the  playwright  Greene's 


COMEDIES.  87 

jealous  spite,  as  if  Shakespeare  had  robbed  him  or 
overtopped  his  own  play,  and  gave  rise  to  his 
pamphlet,  and  scornful  saying  that  "he  thought 
himself  the  only  Shakescene  in  the  country." 

The  play  is  pure  comedy,  and  the  scene  is  laid 
in  Padua,  Italy.  Many  things  might  lead  us  to 
believe  the  tradition  that  Shakespeare  once  visited 
the  land  of 

"  fruitful  Lombardy 
The  pleasant  garden  of  great  Italy  ;  " 

and 

"fair  Padua,  nursery  of  arts." 

Perhaps  he  stood  inside  the  many-domed  church 
of  San  Giustiniani,  and  looked  at  Giotto's  frescoes 
in  the  Arena  Chapel.  He  describes  Italian  cos- 
tume, especially  women's  dresses,  with  minuteness, 
and  makes  use  of  Latin  words  and  Italian  expres- 
sions such  as  the  people  used,  so  that  it  would  seem 
as  if  these  came  by  personal  observation. 

It  is  curious  to  see  brought  out  a  custom  in  the 
legal  profession  that  continues,  if  I  mistake  not,  to 
this  day  : 

"  And  do  as  adversaries  do  in  law, 
Strive  mightly,  but  eat  and  drink  as  friends." 


88  THE    READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 

This  play,  though  called  a  comedy,  leaves  out 
the  comic  element  and  is  of  sterner  ethical  fibre, 
entering  more  deeply  into  humanity. 

Its  central  figure  is  Angelo,  whom  the  Duke  of 
Vienna,  in  his  absence  for  a  considerable  period, 
makes  his  deputy,  endowing  him  with  absolute 
authority,  having  apparently  the  most  unbounded 
confidence  in  the  man  : 

Duke  of  Vienna —  "  Angelo, 

There  is  a  kind  of  character  in  thy  life, 
That  to  th'  observer  doth  thy  history 
Fully  unfold.     Thyself  and  thy  belongings 
Are  not  thine  own  so  proper,  as  to  waste 
Thyself  upon  thy  virtues,  they  on  thee. 
Heaven  doth  with  us  as  we  with  torches  do, 
Not  light  them  for  ourselves  ;  for  if  our  virtues 
Did  not  go  forth  of  us,  'twere  airalike 
As  if  we  had  them  not.     Spirits  are  not  finely  touch'd 
But  to  fine  issues  ;  nor  Nature  never  lends 
The  smallest  scruple  of  her  excellence, 
But,  like  a  thrifty  goddess,  she  determines 
Herself  the  glory  of  a  creditor, 
Both  thanks  and  use." 


COMEDIES.  89 

Angelo  is  a  "public  creature."  He  is  a  born 
ruler ;  he  has  a  talent  for  the  administration  of 
public  affairs  ;  he  is  "a  man  of  law. ' '  His  ' '  solid 
will"  is  the  great  governing  wheel  that  turns  the 
machinery  of  state.  He*  is  a  man  of  precedents,  of 
outward  form  but  not  of  inward  spirit,  and  the 
conception  of  justice  as  one  form  of  love — the 
love  of  others,  when  applied  to  the  regulation  of 
men  in  groups  and  companies  for  their  common 
good  and  happiness,  and  the  spiritual  law  of  right- 
eousness to  guide  one's  own  conduct,  were  outside 
his  thinking.  He  is  a  cold  and  unrelenting  ruler  ; 
he  applies  the  law  mercilessly  to  all  but  himself ; 
he  condemns  in  others,  sins  of  which  he  is  guilty. 
He  is  hypocritical  and  base  as  well  as  cruel ;  on 
the  outside  awe-inspiring,  he  is  like  a  tall  pine  of 
the  Apennines,  buttressed  by  the  slow  forces  of  time 
and  opposing  winds,  but  rotten  at  the  core  and 
ready  to  fall  with  a  crash. 

Isabella,  who  is  a  lofty  type  of  the  Shakespearean 
woman,  sees  through  Angelo,  and  is  bold  enough 
to  charge  him  with  crime  : 


90  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

Isabella — "'Tis not  impossible 
But  one,  the  wicked'st  caitiff  on  the  ground, 
May  seem  as  shy,  as  grave,  as  just,  as  absolute 
As  Angelo  ;  even  so  may  Angelo, 
In  all  his  dressings,  characts,  titles,  forms, 
Be  an  arch-villain  ;  believe  it,  royal  prince  : 
If  he  be  less,  he's  nothing  ;  but  he's  more." 

Yet  it  is  this  Isabella  who  at  the  last  asks  for 
his  life,  and  with  a  touch  of  angelic  mercy  says  to 
the  Duke  : 

• '  Most  bounteous  sir, 

Look,  if  it  please  you,  on  this  man  condemn'd, 
As  if  my  brother  lived  :  I  partly  think 
A  due  sincerity  govern'd  his  deeds, 
Till  he  did  look  on  me  :  since  it  is  so, 
Let  him  not  die." 

Angelo  is  reprieved  with  the  rest.  He,  the 
chief  offender,  escapes,  but  he  shows  no  repent- 
ance ;  to  the  last  is  unmoved.  He  is  remarried 
to  Mariana,  his  long  betrothed  and  wronged  wife. 
This  has  been  thought  to  be  the  one  blot  upon 
a  strong  play  ;  but  Shakespeare  cannot  be  lightly 
amended.  He  makes  his  lesson  of  charity's  victory 
complete.  The  sinner  is  in  the  hand  of  God  to 


COMEDIES.  91 

repent  or  suffer.  God  will  rule  over  him  in  the 
infinite  spaces  of  eternity. 

The  Duke  of  Vienna  plays  an  important  part  in 
his  disguise  as  an  observer  of  character,  and  in  his 
easy  nature  it  is  not  unlikely  that  Shakespeare 
may  have  shadowed  forth  the  character  of  that 
Solomon,  James  I.,  and  the  happy-go-lucky,  disor- 
derly condition  of  public  affairs  in  the  government 
of  England. 

Claudio,  the  condemned  man,  though  amiable, 
is  not  so  strong  as  his  sister  Isabella.  He  fears 
death : 

"Ay,  but  to  die,  and  go  we  know  not  where  ; 
To  lie  in  cold  obstruction  and  to  rot ; 
This  sensible  warm  motion  to  become 
A  kneaded  clod  ;  and  the  delighted  spirit 
To  bathe  in  fiery  floods,  or  to  reside 
In  thrilling  region  of  thick-ribbed  ice ; 
To  be  imprison 'd  in  the  viewless  winds, 
And  blown  with  restless  violence  round  about 
The  pendent  world  ;  or  to  be  worse  than  worst 
Of  those  that  lawless  and  incertain  thought 
Imagine  howling  : — 'tis  too  horrible  ! 
The  weariest  and  most  loathed  worldly  life 


92  THE   READING  OP  SHAKESPEARE. 

That  age,  ache,  penury,  and  imprisonment 
Can  lay  on  nature  is  a  paradise 
To  what  we  fear  of  death." 

There  is  a  slight  reminder  in  these  words  both  of 
Homer  and  of  Dante,  though  Shakespeare  needed 
not  to  go  to  either  for  inspiration. 

Those  who  are  accnstomed  in  their  daily  talk 
to  use  the  devil's  name  needlessly,  whatever  this 
spirit  of  evil  may  be,  have  no  support  in  Shake- 
speare, and  find  themselves  rebuked  in  the  Duke's 
words  : 

11  Respect  to  your  great  place  !  and  let  the  devil 
Be  sometime  honour'd  for  his  burning  throne  !  " 

COMEDY  OF  EBRORS. 

The  present  comedy  is  upon  a  somewhat  lower 
plane,  and  turns  upon  the  simple  fact  of  a  strong 
physical  resemblance  between  two  actors  in  the 
comedy,  leading  to  confused  and  amusing  scenes, 
some  of  them  quite  serious,  as  brawls,  rages,  accu- 
sations of  dishonesty,  estranging  of  husband  and 
wife,  and  imprisonments. 

It  is  entertaining,  and  if  acted  skillfully  might 
be  greatly  so. 


COMEDIES.  93 

The  art  shown  is  to  keep  the  actors  apart,  so 
that  their  identity  may  remain  doubtful,  and  this 
of  course  limits  the  time  and  makes  the  play  com- 
paratively short.  There  is  no  poetic  elevation,  but 
the  humor  of  Shakespeare  shines  out  at  times 
unmistakably. 

Of  all  places,  that-  Ephesus  should  be  chosen  for 
such  juggling  and  pranks  !  Poor  Antipholus  of 
Ephesus  is  the  hardest  used,  he  comes  near  to 
losing  his  reputation  and  liberty.  Perhaps  the 
play  would  not  be  considered  very  ludicrous  now, 
but  doubtless  was  so  in  its  day.  Parts  of  the  play 
run  easily  from  prose  into  rhyme.  America  and 
the  Indies  are  treated  as  being  about  identical. 
Shrewd  phrases,  now  familiar,  are  spoken  : 

1 '  Marry,  he  must  have  a  long  spoon  that  must  eat 
with  the  devil." 

So  close  is  the  resemblance  that  at  the  denouement 

the  Duke  says : 

"  Stay,  stand  apart ;  I  know  not  which  is  which." 

"  One  of  these  men  is  Genius  to  the  other." 

11  Methinks  you  are  my  glass,  and  not  my  brother  : " 


94  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

incredible,  but  supposedly  plausible.  The  play  is 
genuine  comedy,  and  stage  action  is  brought  about 
smoothly  without  overdrawn  demonstration. 

The  plot  is  taken  from  Plautus  ("Mercator  "), 
the  Shakespeare  of  Latin  comedy. 

One  would  have  thought  that  twins  separated  by 
accident  and  brought  up  in  cities  so  distant  from 
each  other  would  lose,  when  men,  their  physical 
resemblance  to  each  other,  and  more  and  more 
lessen  the  confusion  of  personal  identity ;  but  the 
plot  was  good  enough  for  the  poet  to  use  in  a 
jocose  and  offhand  way. 

TWELFTH  MIGHT. 

Here  is  a  play  fitted  to  be  acted  during  Twelfth 
Night's  season  of  festivities.  With  "All's  Well 
that  Ends  Well,"  it  is  printed  in  the  folio  edition 
of  1623.  They  are  about  the  last  of  Shakespeare's 
comedies.  In  ' '  Twelfth  Night ' '  are  some  allusions 
that  may  serve  to  mark  the  date,  as,  for  instance, 
there  is  one  sentence  which  is  clearly  written  in 
defence  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 

"The  Romance  literature  of  Europe  was  a  com- 


COMEDIES.  95 

mon  property,  from  which  Elizabethan  writers  of 
every  grade  drew  material  for  their  own  perform- 
ances, using  them  with  all  possible  variety  of  adap- 
tation. 

' '  Italy  was  the  fountain  head  of  these  fictions  ; 
although  they  might  have  traveled  thither  from  the 
East,  and  gradually  assumed  European  shapes  and 
character." 

The  scheme  of  this  play  comes  from  this  source, 
or  from  one  of  those  medieval  fictions  from  which 
English  playwrights  freely  drew.  The  real  comedy 
and  poetry,  however,  were  Shakespeare's,  and  his 
thought  and  style  refine  the  original  play. 

The  scene  was  laid  in  Illyria  and  the  sea  coast 
near  it.     Orsino,  duke  of  the  country,  whose  deep- 
phrased  love  is  fixed  upon  Olivia,  thus  speaks  : 
"If  music  be  the  food  of  love,  play  on  ; 

Give  me  excess  of  it,  that,  surfeiting, 

The  appetite  may  sicken,  and  so  die. 

That  strain  again  !  it  had  a  dying  fall : 

O,  it  came  o'er  my  ear  like  the  sweet  sound, 

That  breathes  upon  a  bank  of  violets, 

Stealing  and  giving  odour  !     Enough  ;  no  more  : 

'Tis  not  so  sweet  now  as  it  was  before. 


96  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

O  spirit  of  love,  how  quick  and  fresh  thou  art  I 
That,  notwithstanding  thy  capacity 
Receiveth  as  the  sea,  nought  enters  there, 
Of  what  validity  and  pitch  soe'er, 
But  falls  into  abatement  and  low  price, 
Even  in  a  minute  !  so  full  of  shapes  is  fancy, 
That  it  alone  is  high  fantastical." 

Viola,  a  king's  daughter,  shipwrecked  on  the 
coast  of  Illyria,  mourns  the  probable  destruction  of 
her  brother,  but  is  assured  by  the  captain  that  he 
saw  him  lashed  to  a  spar  and  safely  riding  the 
waves.  Viola,  brought  up  as  a  simple  shepherdess, 
becomes  a  servant  of  Orsino,  Duke  of  Illyria,  and 
serves  him  as  a  page  disguised  in  masculine  attire  ; 
she  falls  ardently  in  love  with  him,  but  is  sent  as  a 
messenger  to  Olivia,  whom  the  Duke  loves,  and 
who  lives  in  solitariness  for  her  brother's  death. 

Sir  Toby,  uncle  to  Olivia,  here  introduced, 
seems  more  like  a  rough  English  squire  than  an 
eastern  European.  He  cries  : 

"And  so  be  these  boots  too  :  and  they  be  not, 
let  them  hang  themselves  in  their  own  straps." 

"He  is  drunk  nightly  "  with  Sir  Andrew  Ague- 
cheek,  who  also  resembles  an  occidental  character, 


COMEDIES.  97 

who  capers  about,  and  is  "  a  great  eater  of  beef" 
that  "does  harm  to  his  wits" — doubtless  very 
comic  to  the  audience  of  that  period. 

The  Clown,  too,  makes  good  sport  and  sings 
' '  mellifluous  songs. ' ' 

Sir  Toby's  use  of  "sack"  seems  to  link  the 
play  with  "  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor." 

Malvolio,  a  vain  fool,  with  his  "yellow  cross-gar- 
tered leggins, ' '  is  one  of  Shakespeare's  characters 
that  lives.  He  says  of  Viola,  disguised  as  a  man  : 

' '  Not  yet  old  enough  for  a  man.  nor  young  enough  for  a 
boy  ;  as  a  squash  is  before  tis  a  peascod,  or  a  codling  when 
'tis  almost  an  apple  :  'tis  with  him  in  standing  water,  between 
boy  and  man.  He  is  very  well-favoured  and  he  speaks  very 
shrewishly  ;  one  would  think  his  mother's  milk  were  scarce 
out  of  him.' 

Malvolio  is  a  prosaic,  orderly  coxcomb,  a  kind  of 
steward  of  Olivia's  household,  who  aspires  egre- 
giously  even  to  Olivia. 

Maria,  the  maid,  hits  off  thus  Malvolio's  char- 
acter : 

Sometimes  he  is  a  sort  of  puritan,  ' '  or  anything  constantly 
but  a  time-pleaser  ;  an  affectioned  ass,  that  cons  state  with- 
out book  and  utters  it  by  great  swarths  :  the  best  persuaded 
7 


98  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

of  himself,  so  crammed,  as  he  thinks,  with  excellencies,  that 
it  is  his  grounds  of  faith  that  all  that  look  on  him  love  him  ; 
and  on  that  vice  in  him  will  my  revenge  find  notable  cause 
to  work." 

"I  will  drop  in  his  way  some  obscure  epistles  of  love; 
wherein,  by  the  colour  of  his  beard,  the  shape  of  his  leg,  the 
manner  of  his  gait,  the  expressure  of  his  eye,  forehead,  and 
complexion,  he  shall  find  himself  most  feelingly  personated. 
I  can  write  very  like  my  lady  your  niece :  on  a  forgotten 
matter  we  can  hardly  make  distinction  of  our  hands." 

All  this  she  skillfully  does,  and  Malvolio  becomes 
a  more  self-bespangled  ass  than  ever.  His  self- 
complacency,  thinking  no  one  sees  or  hears,  is 
hugely  comic,  and  he  minces  along  most  ludicrously. 

In  the  letter,  which  Maria  feigns  as  coming 
from  Lady  Olivia,  occur  the  familiar  words  : 

"But  be  not  afraid  of  greatness:  some  are  born  great, 
some  achieve  greatness,  and  some  have  greatness  thrust 
upon  'em.' 

Malvolio  comes  in  smirkingly, 

'his  face  into  more  lines  than  is  in  the  new  map  with 
the  augmentation  of  the  Indies," 

a  contemporaneous  fact    that   had  just   occurred. 


COMEDIES.  99 

Maria  speaks  of  this  latter  as  if  it  were  in  the 
author's  thought  to  further  its  success. 

Viola,  with  woman's  wit  and  subtle  ingenuity, 
displaces  the  image  of  Olivia  from  the  Duke's 
mind  and  fastens  his  love  at  last  upon  herself.  In 
her  arguments  she  uses  the  well-known  words : 

14  She  never  told  her  love, 
But  let  concealment,  like  a  worm  i'  the  bud 
Feed  on  her  damask  cheek  :  she  pined  in  thought ; 
And  with  a  green  and  yellow  melancholy 
She  sat  like  patience  on  a  monument, 
Smiling  at  grief.     Was  not  this  love  indeed  ?  ' 

In  this  amusing  comedy,  the  plot  of  the  whole  is 
this  :  Malvolio  is  badly  punished  for  his  vanity, 
but  his  penance  is  short,  being  not  at  heart  a  bad 
fellow.  Viola,  by  her  wit  and  genuine  love  for  the 
Duke,  takes  the  place  of  Olivia  in  his  affections, 
Olivia  becoming  the  wife  of  Sebastian,  the  brother  of 
Viola,  saved  from  perishing  in  the  sea  ;  so  all  ends 
well. 

The  comedy  is  a  bright  one,  worth  reading  on 
rainy  days  and  fair  days,  though  the  Clown  sings 

at  last  : 

"  For  the  rain  it  raineth  every  day.  ' 


100     THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 

Shakespeare  ' '  held  the  many-coloured  mirror  up 
to  nature,"  and  this  comedy  is  another  phase  of 
Love,  but  it  is  begun  in  affectation.  The  very 
scene  of  it  is  in  an  artificial  court  and  French  park, 
not  in  a  free  wild  wood  : 

"Our  court  shall  be  a  little  Academe, 
Still  and  contemplative  in  living  art." 

This  was  one  of  the  nineteen  plays  published 
during  Shakespeare's  life,  and  although  it  has 
been  charged  by  critics,  and  not  unjustly,  as  bear- 
ing the  marks  of  juvenility,  itis_siotably  amusing, 
admirable  reading  for  dull  weather,  and  it  con- 
tains some  passages  worthy  of  the  poet. 

The  freakish  young  King  of  Navarre  conceives 
the  plan  to  bind  himself  and  three  of  his  courtiers 
by  a  solemn  oath  to  confine  themselves  for  a  space 
of  three  years  to  the  pursuits  of  philosophy  and 
other  high  studies,  during  which  period  they  should 
abjure  all  society  of  men  and  women,  eat  but  one 
meal  a  day,  fast  entirely  one  day  in  the  week,  and 
sleep  but  three  hours  at  night. 

•''The  mind  shall  banquet,  though  the  body  pine." 


COMEDIES.  10 1 

These  hard  conditions  are  broken  in  upon  by 
the  unlooked-for  coming  of  the  King  of  France's 
daughter  and  three  of  her  ladies  on  a  political 
embassy,  who,  by  their  beauty  and  wit,  scatter  to 
the  winds  the  King  of  Navarre's  fine  scheme  of 
study,  and  nature  resumes  her  sway. 

In  the  discussions  of  Navarre  with  his  com- 
panions, and  those  of  the  French  ladies,  the  chief 
speaker,  himself  inly  hostile  to  the  King's  plan,  is 
the  young  Biron,  who  has  a  mocking  spirit,  though 
he  sometimes  rises  into  higher  thoughts  with  a 
touch  of  "painted  rhetoric,"  as  thus  when  he 
pleads  the  cause  of  Love  : 

"  Love,"  "lives  not  alone  immured  in  the  brain ; 

But,  with  the  motion  of  all  elements, 

Courses  as  swift  as  thought  in  every  power, 

And  gives  to  every  power  a  double  power, 

Above  their  functions  and  their  offices. 

It  adds  a  precious  seeing  to  the  eye ; 

A  lover's  eyes  will  gaze  an  eagle  blind  ; 

A  lover's  ear  will  hear  the  lowest  sound," 
• '  For  valour,  is  not  Love  a  Hercules, 

Still  climbing  trees  in  the  Hesperides  ? 

Subtle  as  Sphinx  ;  as  sweet  and  musical 

As  bright  Apollo's  lute,  strung  with  his  hair  ; " 


102     THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

"  Let  us  once  lose  our  oaths  to  find  ourselves, 
Or  else  we  lose  ourselves  to  keep  our  oaths. 
It  is  religion  to  be  thus  forsworn, 
For  charity  itself  fulfils  the  law." 

Biron  says  vehemently : 
"  Study  is  like  the  heaven's  glorious  sun, 
That  will  not  be  deep-search'd  with  saucy  looks." 

He  gives  a  sling  at  study  : 

"  Small  have  continual  plodders  ever  won, 
Save  base  authority  from  others'  books." 

The  introduction  into  the  play  of  a  fantastic 
Spanish  knight,  named  Don  Adriano  de  Armado, 
exhibits  Shakespeare's  command,  when  he  chose  to 
exercise  it,  of  the  language  of  pedantry,  ' '  taf- 
feta phrases,"  as  the  custom  was  in  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's age,  and  even  in  the  writings  of  Sir  Philip 
Sidney,  to  toss  these  ' '  silken  terms "  as  a  bull 
tosses  red  rags.  Shakespeare  could  play  at  that 
with  boys'  delight.  This  phraseology  served  as  a 
foil  to  his  plain  speech.  Hyperbolic  phrases  of 
pseudo-learning,  long  rustling  words  which  travel 
on  many  feet  and  are  tricked  off  with  false  colors 
of  rhetoric,  were  an  object  of  his  lively  wit.  Lan- 


COMEDIES.  103 

guage  to  him  was  simply  an  instrument  to  thought 
and  of  secondary  value.  His  influence  on  English 
literature  will  be  ever  most  powerful. 

To  read  Shakespeare  would  seem  to  be  the  duty 
of  our  public  men.  When  the  teacher  of  right 
goes  out  to  instruct  and  guide  men,  let  him  lock 
up  his  study  and  his  books  in  it,  deny  and  sacrifice 
his  ambition  to  be  regarded  as  a  deep  thinker, 
a  great  scholar,  and  speak  in  the  plain  language 
of  ordinary  men,  without  coarseness,  but  from  a 
simple,  true  heart.  The  lawyer  should  throw  off 
his  professional  robes  and  drive  for  the  right, 
content  to  lose  causes,  if  may  be,  though  in  the 
end  he  will  grow  in  power  and  popularity,  and 
would  build  up  the  foundations  of  law  and  good 
government ;  statesmen,  political  orators,  preach- 
ers, lecturers,  essayists,  journalists,  authors,  even 
poets,  should  speak  only  what  they  know  and  feel 
from  the  bases  of  fact  and  nature,  with  Shake- 
speare's real  knowledge  ;  and  though  they  might 
not  become  Shakespeares,  they  would  come  nearer 
to  him  in  the  plain  path  he  led  and  nearer  to  truth 
and  sources  of  power. 


104  THS  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

This  play,  which  is  elegant,  like  the  finer  ambi- 
tious language  of  a  young  man,  is  nevertheless 
not  without  a  sprinkling  of  the  commonest  words 
and  phrases,  such  as  "loggerhead,"  "work-a-day 
world, ' '  and  there  is  one  passage  from  which  Gold- 
smith might  have  caught  the  idea  of  the  familiar 
phrase,  ' '  Where  ignorance  is  bliss  'tis  folly  to  be 
wise,"  which  in  Shakespeare  is  thus  expressed  : 

"  Were  my  lord  so,  his  ignorance  were  wise, 
Where  now  his  knowledge  must  prove  ignorance." 

In  the  contest  of  the  sexes,  the  women  won  a 
complete  victory,  and  the  king  and  his  courtiers 
are  assigned  for  a  year  before  the  renewal  of  agree- 
able relations,  to  perform  useful  tasks  of  life. 
Biron  in  especial,  who  is  not  bad  at  heart,  to 
chasten  his  mocking  spirit,  is  required  to  superin- 
tend a  hospital  for  the  sick. 

ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 

The  title  of  the  play  has  been  much  commented 
upon  and  it  has  been  supposed  that  its  early  title 
was  "  Love's  Labour's  Won,"  and  that  it  was  the 
counterpart  of  "  Love's  Labour's  Lost,"  for  which 


COMEDIES. 


105 


there  is  the  shadow  of  a  reason  ;  yet  the  title 
"  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well  "  fits  it  equally,  and 
in  the  last  words  spoken  this  title  is  almost  given 
word  for  word.  In  the  play  itself  the  labor  of 
love  is  truly  great  and  difficult,  but  the  end  hap- 
pily attained. 

The  heroine  of  the  play  is  a  rare  type  of  woman 
in  Shakespeare's  multifarious  characterizations ; 
she  unites  in  herself  some  contrary  elements,  the 
greatest  of  which  are  love  and  ambition.  Helena 
is  the  true  heroine  with — 

"youth,  beauty,  wisdom,  courage." 

Her  will  is  bold — it  might  indeed  be  thought  at 
times,  hard,  calculating,  and  unfeminine  ;  she  is 
the  daughter  of  a  great  physician  and  wise  man, 
but  has  set  her  heart  on  one  higher  in  rank, 
Bertram,  Count  of  Rousillon ;  here  the  selfish  is 
planted  in  the  unselfish,  and  the  explanation  is  left 
to  the  thoughtful  mind  of  the  reader.  Helena's 
life  is  a  constant  struggle  between  honest  affection 
and  strong  ambition,  and  the  wonderful  force  of  the 
character  is  shown  in  really  attaining  the  object  of 


106  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

both  these  desires  and  reconciling  them.  Some  of 
her  words  at  times  in  this  mental  contest  are  diffi- 
cult to  understand  from  their  depth,  while  others 
are  more  simple  and  pathetic.  She  says  : 

•'  Our  remedies  oft  in  ourselves  do  lie, 
Which  we  ascribe  to  heaven  :  the  fated  sky 
Gives  us  free  scope  ;  only  doth  backward  pull 
Our  slow  designs  when  we  ourselves  are  dull. 
What  power  is  it  which  mounts  my  love  so  high  ; 
That  makes  me  see,  and  cannot  feed  mine  eye  ? 
The  mightiest  space  in  fortune  nature  brings 
To  join  like  likes." 

She  is  thoughtfully  philosophic,  reasons  subjec- 
tively of  things,  and  maintains  the  inward  conflict 
on  a  calm  and  level  line  of  reason  by  an  intense 
will;  sometimes  she  is  more  simple  and  natural. 
She  says  : 

"  My  friends  were  poor  but  honest ;  so's  my  love : 
Be  not  offended  ;  for  it  hurts  not  him 
That  he  is  loved  of  me  :  I  follow  him  not 
By  any  token  of  presumptuous  suit ; 
Nor  would  I  have  him  till  I  do  deserve  him." 

*'  There's  something  in  't 
More  than  my  father's  skill,  which  was  the  great'sl 


COMEDIES.  107 

Of  his  profession,  that  his  good  receipt 
Shall  for  my  legacy  be  sanctified 
By  the  luckiest  stars  in  heaven." 

She  confesses  her  secret  to  the  Countess,  Bertram's 
mother,  and  wins  her  love,  and  she  also  obtains 
the  firm  favor  of  the  King  of  France  by  curing 
him  with  her  father's  prescriptions  ;  at  length  by 
parental  and  royal  command  she  is  married  to  Ber- 
tram. He,  feeling  that  he  has  been  forced  into 
this  marriage  and  that  she  is  of  lower  rank,  departs 
that  same  day  for  Italy,  where  he  is  afterwards 
followed  by  Helena  under  disguise  as  a  pilgrim  ; 
and  in  the  wars  of  the  Duke  of  Florence  he  gains 
military  renown. 

The  three  older  characters,  Lafeu,  Parolles,  "  a 
very  tainted  fellow  and  full  of  wickedness,"  and 
the  Clown,  who  like  nearly  all  of  Shakespeare's 
clowns  conceals  under  his  fool's-cap  much  practical 
wisdom  and  likewise  makes  nonsense  of  words,  such 
as  : 

'*  To  say  nothing,  to  do  nothing,  to  know  nothing  and  to 
have  nothing,  is  to  be  a  great  part  of  your  title ;  which  is 
within  a  very  little  of  nothing," 


108  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

— these  make  up  the  few  ludicrous  features  of  a 
strong  comedy.     Bajazet  is  true  history. 
The  play  is  like  the  First  Lord's  words  : 

'•The  web  of  our  life  is  of  a  mingled  yam,  good  and  ill 
together  :  our  virtues  would  be  proud,  if  our  faults  whipped 
them  not ;  and  our  crimes  would  despair,  if  they  were  not 
cherished  by  our  virtues." 

I  leave  the  end  of  this  vigorous  drama  to  the 
reader.  It  is  approached  by  ' '  the  inaudible  and 
noiseless  foot  of  time,"  but  it  is  drawn  out,  some 
might  possibly  say,  to  an  almost  painful  expec- 
tancy, yet  it  is  hard  to  amend  Shakespeare. 
Helena  and  Bertram  are  reunited  in  happy  mar- 
riage bonds. 

King— "  All  yet  seems  well ;  and  if  the  end  so  meet, 
The  bitter  past,  more  welcome  is  the  sweet." 

GREEK  PLAYS. 

This  title  of  Greek  plays,  as  well  as  the  titles 
that  follow  of  Roman  Tragedies  and  Italian  plays, 
have  no  real  significance,  but  are  here  used  by  me 
only  for  convenience  in  classification,  since  the 
plays  are  not  strictly  classical. 


GREEK   PLAYS.  109 

TROILTTS  AND  CRESSIDA. 

This  drama  pursues  closely  the  story  of  the  Iliad 
and  it  constitutes  a  fable  for  critics.  It  is  a  com- 
plex work  and  is  of  lower  tone  and  style  than 
Shakespeare's  other  plays.  I  do  not  think  that 
Shakespeare,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  set  him- 
self to  rival  Homer  on  the  same  field  but  from 
Chapman's  Homer  or  Florio's  translations  or  his 
own  knowledge  of  Greek,  he  was  acquainted  with 
Homer's  Iliad  and  in  this  play  of  "Troilus  and 
Cressida,"  if  he  indeed  had  a  hand  in  it,  he  freely 
introduces  the  Homeric  characters  of  Hector, 
Paris,  Helen,  ^neas,  as  well  as  on  the  Greek 
side  Nestor,  Agamemnon,  Achilles,  Menelaus, 
Patroclus,  Diomedes,  and  Thersites. 

Thersites  is  made  to  say  of  himself, 
"  I  am  a  rascal ;" 

he  is  witty  but  hardly  with  the  wit  and  point  of 
Shakespeare's  other  characters  of  the  same  stamp. 
Achilles,  instead  of  eating  out  his  soul  in 
Homeric  anger,  is  humorous,  lying  in  his  tent  in 
inactivity,  jerking  out  his  blunt  invectives  against 
Agamemnon  and  the  war. 


110  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

Ulysses  is  the  "foxy  Ulysses."  Ajax  is  made 
a  dancing  bear.  Agamemnon  has  an  imperious 
strut,  but  now  and  then  says  a  strong  thing,  as  : 

"  He  that  is  proud  eats  up  himself;  pride  is  his  own  glass, 
his  own  trumpet,  his  own  chronicle ;  and  whatever  praises 
itself  but  in  the  deed,  devours  the  deed  in  the  praise." 

On  the  Trojan  side  Hector  almost  alone  sustains 
his  Homeric  dignity  and  nobility.  Homer  puts 
into  the  mouth  of  Hector  the  noble  reply  to 
Polydamas  in  the  battle  with  the  Greeks : 

"  The  best  of  omens  is  our  country's  cause." 
(eis  (Ho>vo9  opioTos,  d  pv  via  ©a«  Trepl  Tras  pi;?.) 

Shakespeare  makes  Hector  say  to  Cassandra  who 
urges  him  not  to  go  into  the  fight : 

"  The  end  crowns  all, 
And  that  old  common  arbitrator,  Time, 
Will  one  day  end  it." 

"Life  every  man  holds  dear  ;  but  the  dear  man 
Holds  honour  far  more  precious-dear  than  life.'* 

Shakespeare's  Helen  does  not  talk  like  the  high- 
born dame,  and  Cassandra,  instead  of  being  the 
awful  and  fiery  prophetess,  is  but  a  "  demented 
superstitious  girl." 


GREEK  PLAYS.  Ill 

The  play  is  given  in  the  folio  edition  of  1609 
with  other  Shakespearean  plays,  but  was  doubtless 
made  up  for  the  stage  from  an  earlier  composition. 
If  Shakespeare  wrote  it  or  fitted  it  for  stage  per- 
formance, it  was  the  work  of  youth  and,  though 
following  in  a  measure  the  story  of  the  Iliad,  seems 
to  me  almost  like  a  piece  of  boyish  fun,  making 
sport  of  the  personages  of  that  epic. 

The  love  of  Troilus  and  Cressida,  the  hero  and 
heroine,  if  they  may  so  be  called,  is  on  a  low  level, 
especially  Cressida' s,  who  ends  as  a  wanton  in  the 
Greek  camp,  but  who,  nevertheless,  is  made  to 
speak  words  of  love.  The  biggest  and  wickedest 
rascal  of  all  is  the  oily-tongued  wicked  old  uncle 
of  Cressida,  Pandarus,  his  ribald  song  of  "Ha, 
Ha,  Ha!"  is  not  equal  to  Shakespeare's  other 
songs.  Yet  in  this  whole  uncanny  farrago  of  evil 
lawlessness  there  is  now  and  then  what  may  be 
well  regarded  as  flashes  of  Shakespeare's  power, 
as  in  the  sweet  familiar  line  : 

"One  touch  of  nature  makes  the  whole  world  kin." 

This  play  comes  actually  in  the  authorized  order 
of   Shakespeare's     plays    after    "Pericles"     and 


112     THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

"Timon  of  Athens;"  it  is  neither  comedy  nor 
tragedy,  but  a  historic  refauch£  of  an  immortal 
story,  yet  Shakespeare  in  this  play  was  in  a  cycle 
of  comedy.  It  never  rises  to  the  usual  easy 
flowing  inspiration  of  the  poet,  but  is  labored  and 
dry.  Even  fierce  Achilles,  when  at  last  aroused  to 
arms,  gives  mean  orders  to  his  myrmidons  and 
slays  Hector  when  he  is  sitting  unarmed. 

TIMON  OF  ATHENS. 

This  drama,  as  well  as  that  of  "  Pericles,  Prince 
of  Tyre,"  has  Greece  and  the  Orient  for  back- 
ground, and,  as  has  been  already  said,  they  are 
classic  in  name  only. 

The  story  of  "  Timon  "  is  found  in  Plutarch. 
Timon  is  the  millionaire  of  Athens;  as  another 
actor  in  the  play  says  of  him  : 

"  If  I  want  gold,  steal  but  a  beggar's  dog 
And  give  it  Timon,  why,  the  dog  coins  gold." 

Timon  was  naturally  a  loving,  generous  man,  who 
trusted  his  friends  with  unbounded  confidence  ;  he 
entrusts  the  disposition  of  his  enormous  wealth  to 
his  treasurer  Flavius  ;  he  says  to  him  : 


GREEK   PLAYS.  113 

"  To  think  I  shall  lack  friends  ?    Secure  thy  heart ; 
If  I  would  broach  the  vessels  of  my  love, 
And  try  the  argument  of  hearts  by  borrowing, 
Men  and  men's  fortunes  could  I  frankly  use." 

"  And  in  some  sort  these  wants  of  mine  are  crown'd, 
That  I  account  them  blessings  ;  for  by  these 
Shall  I  try  friends  ;  you  shall  perceive  how  you 
Mistake  my  fortunes ;  I  am  wealthy  in  my  friends. ' ' 

So  he  lavishes  his  gold  upon  his  friends  and  all 
who  servilely  court  him.  He  feasts  his  clients  in  a 
princely  manner,  buys  their  pictures  or  poems, 
whether  good  or  bad,  he  makes  them  large  loans, 
he  pours  his  wealth  into  their  extended  hands ; 
but  he  is  no  Carnegie,  to  do  real  good  to  men  with 
his  riches  ;  he  seeks  only  his  and  their  vain  gratifi- 
cation. 

He  finds  them  false  to  their  promises,  dishonest 
sycophants,  and  his  kindness  changes  to  hate.  He 
seeks  a  solitary  place  by  the  seashore.  He  had 
done  with  man.  He  utters  truths  pressed  out  of 
his  burning  heart  against  human  selfishness  and 
dishonesty.  It  is  odd  to  see  Shakespeare  in  the 
r61e  of  pessimist,  and  it  somehow  does  not  seem  to 
8 


114  THE   READING   OF   SHAKESPEARE. 

sit  well  on  him  ;  yet  as  the  interpreter  of  humanity 
he  regards  the  bad  as  well  as  the  good. 

The  lesson  of  "  Timon  of  Athens"  is  money. 
Money,  like  life,  beauty,  and  power,  is  a  gift ;  it  is 
not  a  toy  to  be  thrown  about  as  Timon  did  for  his 
own  pleasure  or  that  of  his  friends.  It  is  the 
"love  of  money,"  not  money  itself,  which  Scrip- 
ture calls  the  root  of  all  evil  and  which  is  noxious 
and  destructive ;  this  wholesome  admonition  was 
never  more  needed  than  at  the  present ;  the  gospel 
of  money  is  preached  from  one  end  of  the  land  to 
the  other ;  it  enters  into  all.  Godliness  is  gain. 
Public  institutions  are  run  on  the  narrow  gauge 
of  trade.  Political  systems  and  economists  base 
their  final  arguments  on  financial  prosperity.  Life 
itself  is  reckoned  to  a  nicety  solely  in  its  money 
relations.  There  are  some  fathers  who  send  their 
sons  to  the  university,  not  to  discipline  and  broaden 
their  minds  in  studies  which  require  mental  con- 
centration, but  to  make  them  sharper  for  a  busi- 
ness life  so  as  to  be  foremost  in  the  race  for  gain. 
It  would  be  easy  for  the  student,  thus  intel- 
lectually equipped,  when  he  leaves  college  and 


GREEK   PLAYS.  115 

enters  the  professional  school  or  business  life,  to 
master  the  practical,  to  conquer  the  difficulties, 
and  learn  the  methods  of  business,  citizenship,  and 
politics ;  college  is  the  place  for  thorough  study, 
to  lay  deep  the  foundation  principles  of  truth.  In 
literary  studies  it  is  better  to  obtain  a  genuine 
knowledge  of  one  great  subject  or  author,  such  as 
Plato  or  Aristotle,  than  all  the  minor  classics  or 
the  Greek  logomachies  of  the  Byzantine  period, 
with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  Chrysostom  and 
Origen.  It  is  better  to  sit  under  the  shadow  of 
the  great  oak  of  Dante  than  to  wander  aimlessly 
through  the  decayed  luxuriant  garden  of  Italian 
letters.  It  is  better  to  know  Shakespeare  than  a 
hundred  English  authors  and  poets.  This  may  be 
combined  in  the  university  course  with  the  pur- 
suit of  the  noble  advancement  of  modern  scientific 
thought.  But  a  long  leap  has  been  made  from 
money  to  education,  and  above  all  from  poor  disil- 
lusioned Timon  of  Athens,  in  whose  eyes  the  yel- 
low glare  of  gold  has  become  sickening  and  deadly. 
Money  is  the  moral  of  the  play.  Some  doubtless 
have  felt  the  force  of  Charles  Lamb's  rather 
strongly  expressed  words  : 


Il6  THE   READING  OP  SHAKESPEARE. 

• 

"O  money,  money,  how  blindly  thou  hast  been 
worshipped,  and  how  stupidly  abused !  Thou  art 
health  and  liberty  and  strength  ;  and  he  that  has 
thee  may  rustle  his  pockets  at  the  foul  fiend." 

Money  is  good  if  gotten  in  clean  ways.  This 
brighter  side  of  money  ought  by  no  means  to  be 
lost  sight  of  ;  magnificent  examples  are  found,  and 

none  more  than  in  our  own  country,  of  some  rich 

t 

men  who  use  their  wealth  or  portions  of  it  for  the 
promotion  of  civilization,  so  that  these  democratic 
wealthy  men  cast  kings  and  nobles  behind  their 
backs,  in  making  themselves  benefactors  of  their 
race. 

Timon  did  not  understand  this,  he  retired  from 
the  society  of  men. 

Alcibiades  was  his  friend,  who  when  a  youth 
was  a  disciple  of  Socrates,  but  afterwards  turned 
out  to  be  a  libertine  and  traitor  to  his  country. 
Alcibiades,  with  his  train  of  courtesans,  comes  also 
to  Timon  to  solicit  gold,  and  Timon  flings  his  gold 
with  curses  at  their  heads.  He  retreats  to  the  sea- 
shore, lives  in  a  cave,  and  digs  his  grave  by  the 
sea,  so  that  its  waves  would  roll  over  his  bones  and 


GREEK  PLAYS.  117 

dispose  of  them  at  last  in  its  hidden  depths,  as  if 
he  would  carry  his  hatred  of  man  into^  the  eternal 
abyss. 

Timon — "Come  not  to  me  again  :  but  say  to  Athens, 
Timon  hath  made  his  everlasting  mansion 
Upon  the  beached  verge  of  the  salt  flood  ; 
Who  once  a  day  with  his  embossed  froth 
The  turbulent  surge  shall  cover." 

A  MIDSUMMER  NIGHT'S  DREAM. 
This  delightful  comedy  is  likewise  laid  in  Greece, 
but  is  of  an  airy,  playful  tone.  The  bars  are  let 
down  and  the  mind  enters  the  enchanted  fields  of 
the  imagination,  where  love  undergoes  strange 
changes,  mingling  human  with  fairy  folk  that  sport 
in  the  moonbeams,  and  whose  light  footprints 
leave  little  green  circles  in  the  grass  : 

"  To  dance  our  ringlets  to  the  whistling  wind," 

and  vanish  at  the  coming  of  the  dawn.     If  much 
of  the  play  be  made  of  moonbeams,  they 
"are  of  imagination  all  compact." 

It  is  a  court  drama  played  before  Queen  Eliza- 
beth in  all  her  pomp,  and  probably  at  the  marriage 


Il8  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

of  some  high  personages,  so  that  it  seems  to  be  com- 
posed with  peculiar  care  and  elegance,  with  a  flat- 
tery at  once  delicate  and  loftily  poetic,  as  in  the 
words  of  Oberon  to  Puck  : 

"  That  very  time  I  saw,  but  thou  couldst  not, 
Flying  between  the  cold  moon  and  the  earth, 
Cupid  all  arm'd  :  a  certain  aim  he  took 
At  a  fair  vestal  throned  by  the  west, 
And  loosed  his  love-shaft  smartly  from  his  bow, 
As  it  should  pierce  a  hundred  thousand  hearts  : 
But  I  might  see  Cupid's  fiery  shaft 
Quench'd  in  the  chaste  beams  of  the  watery  moon, 
And  the  imperial  votaress  passed  on, 
In  maiden  meditation,  fancy-free. 
Yet  mark'd  I  where  the  bolt  of  Cupid  fell : 
It  fell  upon  a  little  western  flower, 
Before  milk-white,  now  purple  with  love's  wound, 
And  maidens  call  it  love-in-idleness. 
Fetch  me  that  flower ;  the  herb  I  shew'd  thee  once : 
The  juice  of  it  on  sleeping  eye-lids  laid 
Will  make  a  man  or  woman  madly  dote 
Upon  the  next  live  creature  that  it  sees. 
Fetch  me  this  herb ;  and  be  thou  here  again 
Ere  the  leviathan  can  swim  a  league." 

The  play  blends  mature  thought  with  youthful 


GREEK   PLAYS.  119 

fire  as  in  "Love's  Labour's  Lost,"  written  in  the 
last  years  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  abounds  in 
classic  allusions. 

The  scene  is  in  Athens  in  the  legendary  time  of 
Theseus,  and  Hippolyta,  queen  of  the  Amazons, 
whose  figures  and  costumes  are  like  those  carved 
on  the  friezes  of  the  temple  of  Theseus  and  the 
Parthenon,  so  that  there  is  a  touch  of  the  Greek 
heroic,  as  when  Theseus  says  to  his  queen  Hip- 
polyta : 

11 1  woo'd  thee  with  my  sword." 

Love  plays  its  part  on  the  stage,  a  triple  or  four- 
fold actor  ;  and  the  scene  is  Shakespeare's  favorite 
one  of  a  vista  in  a  forest. 

The  author,  as  we  have  seen,  made  much  use 
of  Plutarch's  histories.  The  language  of  this  play, 
however,  is  pure  English,  and  both  its  poetry  and 
prose  flow  like  music. 

The  fairy  folk  are  a  Shakespearean  creation  and 
like  no  other  in  English  or  German.  They  are 
superior  fairies.  They  are  made  of  air  and  moon- 
beams, yet  endowed  with  a  bright  intelligence. 
They  love  and  hate,  they  have  control  over  certain 


120  THE   READING   OF   SHAKESPEARE. 

natural  forces,  they  ply  between  nature  and  human- 
ity. 

Obcron—'  But  we  are  spirits  of  another  sort : 
I  with  the  morning's  love  have  oft  made  sport ; 
And,  like  a  forester,  the  groves  may  tread, 
Even  till  the  eastern  gate,  all  fiery-red, 
Opening  on  Neptune  with  fair  blessed  beams, 
Turns  into  yellow  gold  his  salt  green  streams." 

Oberon,  king  of  the  fairies,  can  endure  something 
of  the  daylight  and  rejoices  in  nature's  beauties. 
He  is  a  pure  emanation  from  nature,  yet  with  a 
superior  touch,  gifted  with  a  playful  and  sometimes 
mischievous  humor,  though  on  the  whole  not 
unfriendly  to  man. 

The  fairies  are  the  ' '  scene-shifters  ' '  in  dreams 
and  ply  between  nature  and  humanity.  Puck,  the 
business  sprite,  who  boasts  of  putting  "  a  girdle 
round  the  earth  in  forty  minutes,"  much  prefers 
to  sport  with  the  birds  and  butterflies  or  to  nestle 
in  a  bed  of  violets  ;  yet  he  causes  immense  trouble 
to  human  pairs  who  are  wandering  bewildered  in 
the  vast  forest. 

The  fairies  change  the  affections  of  the  lovers  to 


GREEK  PI<AYS.  121 

their  opposites,  so  that  the  sweet-hearted  Hermia 
compares  sudden  transformations  to  the  direst 
things. 

Ly sander  prophesies  beforehand  sorrow  and  woe, 
and  says : 

"  War,  death,  or  sickness  did  lay  siege  to  it, 
Making  it  momentary  as  a  sound, 
Swift  as  a  shadow,  short  as  any  dream ; 
Brief  as  the  lightning  in  the  collied  night, 
That,  in  a  spleen,  unfolds  both  heaven  and  earth, 
And  ere  a  man  hath  power  to  say  '  Behold '  ! 
The  jaws  of  darkness  do  devour  it  up." 

44  Ay  me  !  for  aught  that  I  could  ever  read, 
Could  ever  hear  by  tale  or  history, 
The  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth." 

But  all  comes  out  happily  and  the  tricksy  fairies 
sing  the  marriage  song. 

During  the  nuptial  festivities  of  Theseus  and  Hip- 
polyta  and  the  other  pairs  of  lovers,  there  is  intro- 
duced a  comic  by-play  gotten  up  by  peasants,  of 
"  Pyramus  and  Thisbe,"  which,  if  it  accomplishes 
nothing  more,  brings  to  notice  "bully  Bottom" 
with  his  supreme  confidence  in  himself,  as  the 
asinine-headed  sweetheart  of  Titania,  ordering  about 


122  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

the  little  fays,  Peas-blossom,  Cobweb,  Mustard- 
seed,  and  is  also  ready  to  act  Lion,  Wall,  or  Mor- 
tar ;  he  speaks  his  opinion  to  Theseus  in  the 
Ercles  vein,  a  rude  clod,  but,  touched  by  Shake- 
speare's genius,  as  individual  and  immortal  as  the 
most  important  characters.  Shakespeare's  close 
observation  of  nature  and  life  is  seen  in  such  pas- 
sages, where  in  Titania's  language  he  describes 
with  realistic  minuteness  "  the  dreadful  English 
winter  "  that  the  poet  himself  had  witnessed  : 

"  Contagious  fogs ;  which,  falling  in  the  land, 
Have  every  pelting  river  made  so  proud, 
That  they  have  overborne  their  continents  : 
The  OT  hath  therefore  stretch'd  his  yoke  in  vain, 
The  ploughman  lost  his  sweat ;  and  the  green  corn 
Hath  rotted  ere  his  youth  attain'd  a  beard  : 
The  fold  stands  empty  in  the  drowned  field, 
And  crows  are  fatted  with  the  murrion  flock  ; 
The  nine  men's  morris  is  fill'd  up  with  mud  ; 
And  the  quaint  mazes  in  the  wanton  green, 
For  lack  of  tread,  are  undistinguishable  ; 
The  human  mortals  want  their  winter  here ; 
No  night  is  now  with  hymn  or  carol  blest : 
Therefore  the  moon,  the  governess  of  floods, 
Pale  in  her  anger,  washes  all  the  air, 


GREEK   PLAYS.  123 

That  rheumatic  diseases  do  abound  : 
And  thorough  this  distemperature  we  see 
The  seasons  alter :  hoary-headed  frosts 
Fall  in  the  fresh  lap  of  the  crimson  rose  ; 
And  on  old  Hiems'  chin,  and  icy  crown 
An  ordorous  chaplet  of  sweet  summer  buds 
Is,  as  in  mockery,  set." 

Shakespeare's  facts,  as  before  said,  give  him  a 
base  for  his  poetry,  and  the  ideal  builds  itself  on 
the  actual.  In  the  play  of  "The  Tempest,"  for 
example,  how  bare  and  grim  the  realism  of  the 
passage, 

"  They  hurried  us  aboard  a  bark," 
A  rotten  carcass  of  a  butt,  not  rigg'd 
Nor  tackle,  sail,  nor  mast ;  the  very  rats 
Instinctively  have  quit  it." 

Little  escapes  the  poet's  eye.  He  writes  just 
what  he  sees  and  feels.  He  makes  Theseus  in  this 
play  good-naturedly  excuse  the  slips  of  memory 
in  the  boorish  minds  of  the  actors,  by  referring  to 
the  stage-fright  of  ' '  great  clerks ' '  or  learned  men 
who  addressed  him,  suggested,  perhaps,  to  the  poet 
by  his  recollections  of  Burleigh,  or  even,  it  may  be, 
of  the  wonderfully  wise  Lord  Bacon  : 


124  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

1 '  Where  I  have  seen  them  shiver  and  look  pale, 
Make  periods  in  the  midst  of  sentences, 
Throttle  their  practised  accent  in  their  fears, 
And,  in  conclusion,  dumbly  have  broke  off." 

We  may  possibly  be  reminded  of  a  fine  line  in 
Keble's  hymns,  when  we  read  poor  distracted 
Helena's  words : 

"It  is  not  night  when  I  do  see  your  face." 

As  noticed  in  other  plays,  "A  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream"  is  pervaded  by  the  scent  of  wild 
flowers,  as  in  Oberon's  speech  to  Puck  : 

"  I  know  a  bank  where  the  wild  thyme  blows, 
Where  oxlips  and  the  nodding  violet  grows  ; 
Quite  over-canopied  with  luscious  woodbine," 
"There  sleeps  Titania  sometime  of  the  night,' 
Lull'd  in  these  flowers." 

To  hear  this  sportive  play  on  the  German  stage, 
accompanied  by  Mendelssohn's  fairy-music,  is  some- 
thing not  to  be  forgotten. 

THE  WIKTEE'S  TALE. 

This  seems  to  be  one  of  the  latest  of  Shake- 
speare's dramas,  dating  about  the  year  1611.  It 


GREEK   PLAYS.  125 

consists  apparently  of  two  plays.  It  is  pure  romance, 
audaciously  breaking  all  bounds  of  time,  place,  and 
circumstance  ;  it  is  full  of  errors  of  fad,  as  in 
the  well-known  illustration  of  identifying  Bohemia, 
which  has  no  coast  line,  with  Sicily,  which  has  one  ; 
it  mixes  up  ancient  and  modern  things,  introduc- 
ing then  as  living  the  Italian  Renaissance  painter, 
Giulio  Romano,  and  has  a  burial  conducted  after  a 
Christian  form.  It  mixes  up  classical  demi-gods, 
such  as  Hercules  and  Theseus,  with  Christian 
saints. 

Its  style  is  finished,  but  somewhat  studied  and 
involved,  yet  it  has  a  great  charm.  Its  morality  is 
pure  and  lofty,  and  its  end  is  joyous  and  serene  ;  as 
I  have  quoted  already  from  this  play  in  relation  to 
Shakespeare's  conception  of  Nature  and  Art,  I  will 
not  dwell  upon  this  theme. 

It  was  written  to  be  acted  before  the  Court  of 
Elizabeth. 

There  could  be  no  more  enjoyable  reading,  about 
the  fireside  of  a  stormy  winter's  night,  when  tem- 
pestuous blasts  of  wind  and  snow  dash  against  the 
windows,  than  this  tale,  which  is  purely  of  the 


126  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

imagination  and  belongs  to  the  Shakespearean 
beginning  of  the  English  romantic  school  of  litera- 
ture. * 

The  play  was  published  in  the  first  folio  of 
Shakespeare's  works  and  it  has  been  called  the  last 
of  his  comedies,  but  was  written  in  the  fullness  of 
his  strength.  The  story  seems  to  have  sprung 
from  a  mass  of  fables  and  ' '  extant  stories  ' '  in  the 
Elizabethan  times,  with  which  the  people  amused 
their  leisure  hours  ;  but  what  Shakespeare  touched 
carried  with  it  something  real  and  vital.  It  is  also 
of  the  "Middle  Style"  or  a  mingling  of  higher 
drama  with  common  life  and  the  language  of  the 
people. 

"  The  Winter's  Tale"  is  in  one  sense  comedy, 
dealing  with  human  woes  and  joys.  It  is  pure 
fiction,  but  in  regard  to  the  Bohemian  sea-coast, 
Greene,  a  geographer  contemporary  with  Shake- 
speare, affirms  the  same  fact  on  his  map.  This 
may  show  how  little  the  country  of  Bohemia  was 
known  of  in  England  at  that  time,  though  it 
appears  incredible  from  the  fact  that  but  a  century 
and  a  half  before,  John  Huss,  the  Bohemian  re- 


GREEK  PLAYS.  127 

former,  was  burned,   and   Shakespeare  may  have 
alluded  to  this  in  the  line  : 

«  It  is  an  heretic  that  makes  the  fire." 

But  is  not  another  explanation  admissible,  that, 
in  the  freedom  of  poetic  license,  Shakespeare,  to 
add  romance  to  his  tale,  takes  the  name  of  Bohemia, 
as  good  as  any  other  strange  land,  to  be  that  of  a 
distant  and  almost  unknown  country  ? 

What  mattered  it  to  the  poet  what  name  of 
country  he  employed  ? 

Imogen  in  "  Cymbeline  "  was  the  typical  daugh- 
ter, so  Hermione  was  the  typical  wife.  Hermione 
is  the  central  character  of  "  The  Winter's  Tale," 
her  constancy,  patience,  unfailing  love,  and  stead- 
fast faith,  burning  unquenchably  bright  in  the 
most  trying  conditions. 

King  I^eontes  was  a  jealous  tyrant,  who  wrongs 
his  wife,  but  in  his  youth  he  loved  her.  The 
words  of  Polixenes,  King  of  Bohemia,  which  he 
applied  to  Leontes,  might  be  the  origin  of  the 
words  which  has  been  bestowed  on  Shelley  of  an 
"eternal  child:" 


128  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

Polixenes — ' '  We  were,  fair  queen, 
Two  lads  that  thought  there  was  no  more  behind, 
But  such  a  day  to-morrow  as  to-day, 
And  to  be  boy  eternal." 

The  Chorus,  Time,  sweeps  away  the  lapse  of 
years  and  with  his  scythe  cuts  the  drama  into  two 
parts,  and  in  the  second  introduces  Perdita,  who 
from  a  babe  in  the  wilderness,  exposed  to  death, 
grows  up 

"  A  Shepherd's  daughter  " 

in  her  blooming  womanhood  in  Bohemia,  and  her 
maidenly  words  are  characteristically  simple,  pure, 
and  wise. 

The  play  is  brought  back  again  to  comedy  by 
the  rogue  Autolycus,  who  changes  his  clothes, 
but  not  his  vagabondish  character  ;  he  sings  : 

*'  Jog  on»  jog  on»  the  foot-path  way, 

And  merrily  hent  the  stile-a  : 
A  merry  heart  goes  all  the  day, 
Your  sad  tires  in  a  mile-a." 

There  is  no  more  beautiful  scene  than  Hermione's 
awakening,  when  the  sculptor's  marble  melts  into 
life,  and  the  power  of  art  is  seen  to  be  triumphant. 


GREEK   PLAYS. 


I29 


PERICLES,  PRINCE  OF  TYRE. 

The  play  of  "Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre,"  may  be 
symbolized  as  a  white  lily,  growing  in  the  black 
mud  of  a  swamp. 

The  pure  spirit  of  the  heroine,  who  is  perhaps  its 
principal  character,  saves  the  drama  from  corrup- 
tion and  exhales  the  sweetness  of  innocence. 

The  drama  is  undoubtedly  Shakespeare's  in  point 
and  passages,  but  not  probably  in  its  whole  web 
and  woof.  The  time  of  its  authorship  is  judged  to 
be  1609. 

It  also  contravenes  all  classical  rules  ;  the  reader 
is  whisked  from  Antioch  to  Tyre,  then  to  Ephesus, 
Tarsus,  and  Mitylene,  as  by  magic  bounds.  The 
s.tyle  is  an  even  steady  pace,  though  it  passes 
through  deep  valleys  of  shame  and  humiliation. 
Yet  its  end  is  happy  and  its  moral  tone,  on  the 
whole,  rises  about  its  foul  corruption. 

It  is  Greek  in  one  respect,  it  has  a  Chorus  ;  oddly 
enough  it  is  English  in  the  fact  that  the  Chorus  is 
none  other  than  "  ancient  Gower." 

"  To  sing  a  song  that  old  was  sung, 
From  ashes  ancient  Gower  is  come." 
9 


130  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 


ROMAN  TRAGEDIES. 


ANDRONICUS. 

This  is  the  poorest  of  what  I  have  denominated 
the  Roman  tragedies,  but  I  will  mention  it  first. 
In  this  play  we  reach  the  most  disputable  of 
Shakespeare's  dramas. 

If  Shakespeare  indeed  composed  it,  his  part  was 
like  a  graft  on  a  crabbed  tree,  or  it  may  be  he 
wrote  it  originally  in  his  youthful  days  to  make 
his  audience  sup  full  on  horrors,  as  was  the  fashion 
of  the  times.  His  own  genius  was  so  strong  that 
he  comprehended  all  the  elements  and  human  con- 
ditions of  passions. 

He  who  could  stand  in  sunshine  on  the  clear 
mountain  summit  commercing  with  the  skies  could 
descend  into  the  poisonous  valley  where  loathsome 
things  grow  and  move. 

In  this  play  the  scene  is  laid  in  Rome,  with  the 
forum  in  the  background,  yet  there  is  nothing  of 
antique  Roman  nobleness,  but  a  most  degenerate 
baseness  of  the  decline  of  the  empire.  The  charac- 


ROMAN  TRAGEDIES.  131 

ters  are  not  even  historic,  nor  are  they  grand. 
The  emperor,  Saturninus,  is  weak;  the  empress, 
Tamora,  is  a  foul  fiend. 

Titus  Andronicus  boasts  of  his  warlike  achieve- 
ments, but  shows  no  vigor  in  an  emergency. 
The  younger  men  are  lewd  fellows ;  poor  Lavinia 
with  her  bleeding  stumps  of  arms  somehow  is  not 
pathetic.  The  dusky  Aaron  is  a  devil  incarnate  ; 
only  Lucius  Andronicus  shows  manliness,  and 
proves  that  Shakespeare  was  a  democrat  in  the 
true  sense  of  that  word,  recognizing  the  rights  and 
freedom  of  the  people. 

The  play  is  barbarous,  bloody,  and  disgusting. 
Were  it  not  for  some  delicate  similes  of  flowers, 
birds,  and  nature,  in  which  the  poet  is  seen,  it 
would  be  a  wide  waste  of  terrible  crime. 

The  author  speaks  of  ' '  popish  tricks ' '  and 
"God  and  St.  Stephen  "  in  these  old  Roman  days, 
yet  his  knowledge  discriminating  between  the 
Greek  and  Roman  gods  and  his  frequent  allusions 
to  Ovid's  metamorphoses,  and  quotations  from 
Virgil  and  Horace,  show  a  familiarity  with  these 
Latin  authors. 


132  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

The  recurrence  of  Shakespearean  phrases  is  to 
be  observed,  as  in  the  words  : 

"  She  is  a  woman,  therefore  may  be  wooed, 
She  is  a  woman,  therefore  may  be  won," 

which  brings  to  mind  the  wooing  scene  in  Richard 
III. 

I  have  come  myself  to  believe  in  the  Shake- 
spearean authorship  of  this  play,  as  bearing  inter- 
nal and  external  proof  of  this. 

It  has  as  good  a  claim  as  any  in  this  respect. 
It  appeared  in  the  quarto  of  1600  under  the  title 
1 '  The  Lamentable  Roman  Tragedy  of  Titus 
Andronicus. ' '  In  London  it  was  printed  for  Edward 
White  in  company  with  other  undoubted  Shake- 
spearean dramas,  but  it  was  evidently  written  in  no 
high  mood  of  thought. 

CORIOLAOTS. 

We  come  in  this  play  to  the  genuine  Roman  of 
the  olden  time,  hard  and  grand,  where  Shake- 
speare's genius  seems  to  find  a  more  sympathetic 
and  firm  ground ;  but  Shakespeare,  as  has  been 
more  than  once  said,  was  at  home  in  humanity, 


ROMAN   TRAGEDIES.  133 

and  created  new  and  lasting  types.  His  clown  is 
always  a  ' '  clown/ '  his  hero,  ' '  a  hero  ;  "  the  fighter 
is  set  before  us  in  Roman  form  both  legendary 
and  historic.  Coriolanus  was  a  precursor  of  that 
inflexible  valor  which  led*  Rome  to  the  conquest  of 
the  world. 

The  little  town,  Roma,  seated  on  her  seven  hills, 
often  assailed  and  sometimes  captured,  was  never 
annihilated,  and  itself  finally  overcame  the  fierce 
Volsci  and  Etruscans  represented  in  the  play,  and 
became  the  ruling  power  of  Italy  and  of  the  world. 
It  was  of  the  period  when  a  Roman  demos  had 
begun  to  make  its  appearance,  and  the  majestic 
shadow  also  of  the  Roman  mother  is  seen. 

Coriolanus  may  never  have  done  the  marvelous 
warlike  deeds,  except  in  imagination,  but  the 
lesson  of  the  tragedy  is  Pride,  a  passion  working 
in  a  brave  and  haughty  nature,  invading  and  over- 
throwing its  noble  qualities,  creating  that  unfor- 
giving spirit  which  brought  about  a  tragic  end. 

The  play  probably  belongs  to  the  beginning  of 
the  1 7th  century,  and  the  later  period  of  Shake- 
speare's life.  It  would  seem  to  have  been  thrown 


134  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

off  rapidly,  inspired  by  the  story  in  "Plutarch's 
Histories,"  but  putting  new  life  into  prosaic  details. 
Coriolanus  is  a  Roman  Achilles,  a  great  figure, 
but  without  the  beauty  of  the  Greek.  The  only 
soft  spot  in  his  hard  nature  is  his  love  for  his 
mother,  Volumnia,  by  whose  entreaties  and  those 
of  his  wife,  Virgilia,  he  magnanimously,  in  the  first 
instance,  spares  Rome ;  yet  he  is  no  politician 
stooping  to  little  things,  but  strives  to  ingratiate 
himself  with  the  people,  to  unify  them  under  his 
leadership.  He,  like  Achilles,  seems  to  do  the 
fighting,  and  to  make  the  whole  host  of  his  ene- 
mies flee  before  him.  He  defends  his  patrician 
views  with  rough  and  haughty  force,  but  in  the 
political  field  he  fails  to  attain  popularity,  as  is 
readily  seen  in  his  address  to  the  people  : 

Coriolanus — "The  people  are  abused  ;  set  on. 

This  paltering 

Becomes  not  Rome  ;  nor  has  Coriolanus 
Deserved  this  so  dishonour'd  rub,  laid  falsely 
I'  the  plain  way  of  his  merit." 

"Tell  me  of  corn  ! 

This  was  my  speech,  and  I  will  speak  't  again  " — 
"  Now,  as  I  live,  I  will.     My  nobler  friends, 


ROMAN  TRAGEDIES.  135 

I  crave  their  pardons  : 

For  the  mutable,  rank-scented  many,  let  them 
Regard  me  as  I  do  not  flatter,  and 
Therein  behold  themselves  :  I  say  again, 
In  soothing  them,  we  flourish  'gainst  our  senate 
The  cockle  of  rebellion,  insolence,  sedition,  [ter'd, 

Which  we  ourselves  have  plough'd  for,  sow'd  and  seat- 
By  mingling  them  with  us,  the  honour'd  number  ; 
Who  lack  not  virtue,  no,  nor  power,  but  that 
Which  they  have  given  to  beggars. 

"How!  no  more! 
As  for  my  country  I  have  shed  my  blood," 

"  By  Jove,  'twould  be  my  mind  ! " 

"  Be  not  as  common  fools  : " 
1  They  chose  their  magistrate  ; 
And  such  a  one  as  he,  who  puts  his  '  shall,' 
His  popular  '  shall,'  against  a  graver  bench 
Than  ever  frown'd  in  Greece.     By  Jove  himself, 
It  makes  the  consuls  base  !  " 

The  pathetic  point  of  the  drama  is  where  Corio- 
lanus  stands  a  suppliant  in  the  market  place  before 
the  altar  of  the  Volsci,  at  Corioli,  not  in  the  brag- 
gadocio style,  when  he  proclaims  himself : 

11  My  name  is  Caius  Marcius," 
'•My  surname,  Coriolanus  ;  " 


136  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

grim  words  to  his  hearers,  but  not  boastful.  Yet 
he  breaks  out  once  in  a  flame,  when  the  Volscian 
General,  Aufidius,  who  hates  him  for  his  superior- 
ity in  warlike  fame,  called  him  a  boy  : 

"  Cut  me  to  pieces,  Volsces  ;  men  and  lads, 
Stain  all  your  edges  on  me.     '  Boy  ! '  false  hound  ! 
If  you  have  writ  your  annals  true,  'tis  there, 
That,  like  an  eagle  in  a  dove-cote,  I 
Flutter'd  your  Volscians  in  Corioli  ; 
Alone  I  did  it     '  Boy !  * " 

Old  Aufidius,  his  chief  foe,  again  says  of  him  : 
"Thy  country's  strength  and  weakness." 

Weakness,  indeed,  because  selfish. 

Coriolanus  fell  under  many  blows.  The  sacred 
Alban  Mount  and  the  sunny  hilltops  still  are 
there  under  the  clear  blue  sky  of  Italy,  where 
Corioli  and  the  ancient  Latin  cities  stood  ;  but  the 
worshipers  and  fighters  who  regarded  Rome  as 
their  mightiest  foe  are  now  but  silent  shadows. 

JULIUS  CJESAB. 

We  have  at  last  reached  historic  ground,  but  as 
has  been  already  suggested,  Shakespeare,  for  his 


ROMAN  TRAGEDIES.  137 

own  purposes,  sometimes  swerves  from  history, 
though  sti^l  true  to  life,  and  in  this  noble  tragedy 
Brutus  is  evidently  his  hero.  In  such  a  stern, 
pure  character  and  lover  of  his  country  as  Brutus 
was,  his  killing  of  Caesar  was  an  act  of  savage 
grandeur  and  untaught  paganism — he  drew  from 
deep  instincts  of  native  self-sacrifice  wholly  un- 
trained by  the  higher  law  of  Christianity.  It  is 
strange  after  so  long  a  time  of  the  teaching  of 
Christianity,  when  almost  the  whole  world  has 
been  reached  by  its  mild  divine  truths,  that  even 
in  Christian  nations  the  pagan  belief  of  Brutus 
should  be  re-erected  into  a  kind  of  religion ;  what 
is  violent  cannot  last.  It  seems  sometimes  as  if 
permanent  peace  made  progress  by  occasional  re- 
trogression ;  in  zigzags,  not  in  straight  lines,  that 
history  repeats  itself,  and  that  even  in  Christian 
lands  pagan  ideas  should  be  revived  as  if  there  had 
been  no  advance  in  civilization.  Caesar's  greatness 
is  recognized  in  this  and  other  plays— his  vast 
organizing  ability  and  warlike,  conquering  energy 
— but  in  a  spiritual  sense  he  is  not  the  adorable, 
nor  is  he  Shakespeare's  own  highest  conception  of 


138  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

greatness.  He  has  been  held  to  be  the  greatest 
man  the  world  has  ever  seen — in  force  of  mind  and 
will,  perhaps  so — yet  in  the  highest  traits  of  moral 
character,  like  Napoleon,  who  comes  nearest  to 
him,  he  fails.  He  is  the  embodiment  of  power, 
which  men  worship.  It  is  true,  if  he  had  lived 
longer  he  might  have  done  even  more  as  a  con- 
structor of  a  broad  system  of  government,  a  law- 
giver, a  patron  of  letters,  a  political  builder  of 
empire,  which  would  have  become  world-wide,  as 
the  world  then  was.  To  the  last  he  was  an  ambi- 
tious man,  working  for  self  and  power,  the  origina- 
tor of  Caesarism,  whose  portentous  shadow  has 
since  then  overspread  the  world  and  entered  every 
system — political,  moral,  and  even  religious.  It 
was  a  kingdom  of  force  opposed  to  that  of  right- 
eousness. Caesar  was  a  subject  worthy  of  Shake- 
speare's genius ;  he  took  hold  of  it  in  a  simple, 
natural  way.  He  is  not  taken  off  his  feet  by  the 
greatness  of  his  subject,  nor  does  he  create  a  demi- 
god. 

Caesar    crushed    the    factions    of    Sulla,   Caius 
Marius,  and  the  worthier  contention  of   Pompey, 


ROMAN  TRAGEDIES.  139 

and  gathered  the  reins  of  power  into  his  own  hand. 
He  looked  to  the  rulership  of  all— hence,  the 
Roman  empire — he  drove  over  freedom  and  the 
popular  rights.  There  was  a  call  for  the  con- 
spiracy of  Brutus  in  the  fact  of  Caesar's  ambition. 
Brutus  saw  in  it  that  which  menaced  liberty, 
crushing  the  republic.  Doubtless  Caesar's  views 
were  broad,  and  his  system  of  government  won- 
derfully calculated  for  the  conquest  and  unification 
of  the  nations  ;  himself,  in  one  sense,  was  the  begin- 
ning of  Roman  civilization  in  law,  political  science, 
art,  and  letters. 

The  excuse  for  absolutism  in  the  conception  of 
a  more  orderly  form  of  government  was  proved  in 
the  line  of  most  of  his  successors  to  be  unjust  and 
detestable — Caesarism  means  war,  righteousness 
means  peace.  Shakespeare  seemed  to  have  had  a 
deep  conception  of  this.  In  his  poetic  eye  he  saw 
a  day  in  old  Rome,  the  capitol,  the  senate,  the 
forum,  the  splendid  Julian  Basilica,  filled  with 
officers  and  clients,  the  narrow  streets  tramped  by 
many  feet,  and  the  market  places  also  filled  with 
crowds  discussing  political  affairs,  and  the  great 


140  THE   READING   OF   SHAKESPEARE. 

turn  in  the  tide  of  them.  He  saw,  too,  the  scene 
of  Brutus  and  Mark  Antony's  speeches  over  the 
dead  body  of  Caesar,  now  so  familiarly  declaimed 
by  schoolboys, — but  is  this  an  argument  against 
them  ?  What  other  speeches  of  ancient  or  modern 
times  are  like  these  for  boys  to  declaim?  They 
are  models  of  forcible  address,  surpassing  the 
speeches  of  Cicero,  and  the  ages  have  caught 
them  up. 

Shakespeare  does  not  entirely  follow  Plutarch's 
life  of  Csesar  ;  he  had  his  own  interpretation  of  the 
characters  of  Caesar  and  Brutus  ;  he  came  into  the 
wide  field  of  true  dramatic  motive.  These  persons 
become  men  instead  of  the  forms  and  opinions  of 
historians  and  essayists.  Evidently  the  life  of 
Caesar  made  a  deep  impression  on  Shakespeare,  as 
is  instanced  in  other  plays,  calling  him,  for  ex- 
ample in  "Hamlet,"  "Mighty  Csesar,"  yet  he 
makes  Brutus,  who  truly  loved  Caesar,  say  : 
"  Caesar  was  ambitious." 

Brutus  was  afraid  of  Caesar's  ambition.  He  knew 
Caesar's  power  and  feared  for  freedom.  The  scene 
of  the  conspirators'  plot  in  Brutus' s  house,  with 


ROMAN  TRAGEDIES.  141 

closed  doors,  and  shadows,  and  the  critical  discus- 
sion of  the  characters  of  those  to  be  chosen  or 
omitted,  is  deeply  impressive.  The  speeches  of 
Brutus,  Mark  Antony,  and  Cassius,  after  the  mur- 
der in  the  forum,  marvelously  differentiated,  are 
characteristic.  We  might  imagine  Brutus  ascend- 
ing the  rostrum  in  simple  dignity,  wrapped  in  his 
toga,  and  without  a  gesture.  He  is  laconic,  frank, 
and  stately,  but  with  loftier  ideas  than  the  rest — 
the  highest  pagan,  though  not  Christian,  ideas. 

Brutus — "  If  there  be  any  in  this  assembly,  any  dear 
friend  of  Caesar's,  to  him  I  say  that  Brutus'  love  to  Caesar 
was  no  less  than  his.  If  then  that  friend  demand  why 
Brutus  rose  against  Caesar,  this  is  my  answer  :  not  that  I 
loved  Caesar  less,  but  that  I  loved  Rome  more.  Had  you 
rather  Caesar  were  living,  and  die  all  slaves,  than  that  Caesar 
were  dead,  to  live  all  freemen  ?  As  Caesar  loved  me,  I  weep 
for  him ;  as  he  was  fortunate,  I  rejoice  at  it ;  as  he  was 
valiant,  I  honour  him  ;  but  as  he  was  ambitious,  I  slew  him. 
There  is  tears  for  his  love  ;  joy  for  his  fortune  ;  honour  for 
his  valour  ;  and  death  for  his  ambition.  Who  is  here  so 
base  that  would  be  a  bondman  ?  If  any,  speak ;  for  him 
have  I  offended.  Who  is  here  so  rude  that  would  not  be  a 
Roman  ?  If  any,  speak  ;  for  him  have  I  offended.  Who  is 


142  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

here  so  vile  that  will  not  love  his  country  ?    If  any,  speak  ; 
for  him  have  I  offended  ?    I  pause  for  a  reply." 

Cassius'  speech  is  plausible  and  political,  seeking 
to  lower  the  estimation  of  "the  great  Caesar,"  but 
Mark  Antony's  reveals  the  highest  art  of  elo- 
quence. He  leads  his  audience  along  on  one  way, 
winningly  pathetic  and  masterful.  Then  he  turns 
with  the  fury  of  hot  passion,  carrying  all  like  a 
lava  stream  before  him.  From  thinly  concealed 
sarcasm  he  suddenly  shows  his  deeper  design  to 
stir  the  people  to  rise  in  rebellion  : 

Antony—  "But  yesterday  the  word  of  Caesar  might 
Have  stood  against  the  world  :  now  lies  he  there, 
And  none  so  poor  to  do  him  reverence. 

0  masters,  if  I  were  disposed  to  stir 
Your  hearts  and  minds  to  mutiny  and  rage, 

1  should  do  Brutus  wrong  and  Cassius  wrong, 
Who,  you  all  know,  are  honourable  men  : 

I  will  not  do  them  wrong  ;  I  rather  choose 
To  wrong  the  dead,  to  wrong  myself  and  you, 
Than  I  will  wrong  such  honourable  men." 
"  I  am  no  orator,  as  Brutus  is  ; 
But,  as  you  know  me  all,  a  plain  blunt  man, 
That  love  my  friend ;  and  that  they  know  full  well 


ROMAN  TRAGEDIES.  143 

That  gave  me  public  leave  to  speak  of  him  : 

For  I  have  neither  wit,  nor  words,  nor  worth, 

Action,  nor  utterance,  nor  the  power  of  speech, 

To  stir  men's  blood  :  I  only  speak  right  on  ; 

I  tell  you  that  which  you  yourselves  do  know ;      [mouths, 

Show  you  sweet  Caesar's  wounds,  poor,  poor  dumb 

And  bid  them  speak  for  me  :  for  were  I  Brutus, 

And  Brutus  Antony,  there  were  an  Antony 

Would  ruffle  up  your  spirits,  and  put  a  tongue 

In  every  wound  of  Caesar's,  that  should  move 

The  stones  of  Rome  to  rise  and  mutiny." 

The  weird  death  of  Brutus  at  Philippi  ends  the 
tragedy  : 

"  For  Brutus  only  overcame  himself." 

ANTONY  AND  CLEOPATRA 

"Antony  and  Cleopatra"  is  great  because  the 
characters  are  great.  It  is  a  magnificent  drama, 
and  the  consistency  of  the  character  of  Antony 
throughout  these,  the  last  Roman  plays — ' '  Julius 
Caesar"  and  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra, "  is  marvel- 
ous in  the  qualities  of  Antony,  the  most  brilliant 
of  the  triumvirate  of  Rome.  The  same  moving 
orator,  the  victorious  general  at  Philippi,  the  hus- 


144  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

band  of  Octavia,  threw  away  all  for  his  love  of 
Cleopatra,  but  with  the  exception  of  his  infatuated 
words  of  passion,  he  still  is  noble  and  magnani- 
mous. 

Antony  cast  aside  duty  and  power  for  pleasure, 
and  did  it  deliberately ;  but  he  fell  on  his  sword, 
Roman-like,  at  the  last.  He  walks  the  scene 
right  royally  ;  he  was  strong,  but  not  so  strong  in 
wicked  will  as  Cleopatra.  She  was  a  flower  of 
wondrous  beauty  sprung  from  the  slime  of  the 
Nile,  entrancing  and  mysterious.  Antony's  love 
for  her  was  the  rift  in  the  towering  cliff  that  finally 
brought  it  to  ruins.  Antony  was  the  same  man 
who  made  the  fiery  speech  over  Caesar's  dead 
body,  rousing  the  Roman  people,  turning  the 
tide  against  the  revolutionists,  and  really  setting 
forth  the  first  conception  of  the  Roman  empire. 
Antony  knows  himself  with  utmost  perspicacity, 
and  confesses  his  moral  weakness.  He  also  has 
imagination  that  sees  beneath  the  surface  of  things 
to  the  true  motives  of  actions. 

The  style  of  the  play  is  simple  and  vigorous  ;  it 
seems  to  have  mingled  the  Saxon  naturalness  and 


ROMAN   TRAGEDIES.  145 

the  I^atin  terseness  of  expression.  In  all  this, 
Shakespeare's  poetic  genius  vitalizes  the  common- 
place. Such  sentences  as  these  are  illustrative  of 
the  style  of  this  martial  play,  as  far  as  it  has  to  do 
with  the  Roman  soldier  and  politician. 
Antony  speaks  of  Octavius  : 

"  He  shall  to  Parthia.     Be  it  art  or  hap, 
He  hath  spoken  true  ;  the  very  dice  obey  him, 
And  in  our  sports  my  better  cunning  faints 
Under  his  chance ;  if  we  draw  lots,  he  speeds  ; 
His  cocks  do  win  the  battle  still  of  mine 
When  it  is  all  to  naught,  and  his  quails  ever 
Beat  mine,  in  hoofed  at  odds,  I  will  to  Egypt : 
And  though  I  make  this  marriage  for  my  peace, 
I'  the  east  my  pleasure  lies." 

Antony,  a  keen  observer,  mixes  scientific  fact 
with  poetry : 

^4«&wy— "Thus  do  they,  sir:  they  take  the  flow  o' 

the  Nile 

By  certain  scales  i'  the  pyramid  ;  they  know, 
By  the  height,  the  lowness,  or  the  mean,  if  dearth 
Or  foison  follow  :  the  higher  Nilus  swells, 
The  more  it  promises  :  as  it  ebbs,  the  seedsman 
Upon  the  slime  and  ooze  scatters  the  grain, 

And  shortly  comes  to  harvest." 
10 


146  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

Antony's  character  is  set  forth  by  Agrippa  when 
in  Rome,  and  by  a  rude  Roman  soldier  : 

Agrippa —  "  Tis  a  noble  Lepidus," 

Enobarbvs — "  A  very  fine  one  :    O,  how  he  loves  Caesar  !  " 

Agr. — "  Nay,  but  how  dearly  he  adores  Mark  Antony  !  " 

Eno. — "  Caesar?  why,  he's  the  Jupiter  of  men." 

Agr.—"  What's  Antony  ?  the  god  of  Jupiter." 

Eno. — "  Spake  you  of  Caesar  ?    How  !  the  nonpareil ! " 

Agr. — O,  Antony  !    O  thou  Arabian  bird  !  " 

Eno. — "Would  you  praise   Caesar,   say  'Caesar;'  go  no 

further." 
Agr.—"  Indeed,    he   plied   them    both   with   excellent 

praises." 
Agrippa — "Nay,    but    how     dearly    he    adores     Mark 

Antony :" 
Enobarbus — "But  he  loves  Caesar   best;    yet  he    loves 

Antony : 

Ho !  hearts,  tongues,  figures,  scribes,  bards,  poets,  cannot 
Think,  speak,  cast,  write,  sing,  number — ho ! 
His  love  to  Antony.     But  as  for  Caesar, 
Kneel  down,  kneel  down,  and  wonder." 

Antony  refers,  lover-like,  to  Cleopatra  : 

"  The  April's  in  her  eyes  :  it  is  love's  spring, 
And  these  the  showers  to  bring  it  on.     Be  cheerful." 


ROMAN  TRAGEDIES.  147 

Agrippa  brings  his   testimony  as  to  Antony's 
emotional  nature  : 

Agr.— (aside  to  Eno.)        "Why,  Enobarbus, 
When  Antony  found  Julius  Caesar  dead, 
He  cried  almost  to  roaring  ;  and  he  wept 
When  at  Philippi  he  found  Brutus  slain." 

Caesar  himself  says  to  Antony  : 

' '  Adieu  ;  be  happy  ! 

Lepidus — Let  all  the  number  of  the  stars  give  light 
To  thy  fair  way  !  " 

Ccesar —  "  You  praise  yourself 

By  laying  defects  of  judgment  to  me  ;  but 
You  patched  up  your  excuses." 

But  how  simple,  graceful,  and  fitting  are  these 
words  : 

Agr. — "  To  hold  you  in  perpetual  amity, 
To  make  you  brothers  and  to  knit  your  hearts 
With  an  unslipping  knot,  take  Antony 
Octavia  to  his  wife  ;  whose  beauty  claims 
No  worse  a  husband  than  the  best  of  men  ; 
Whose  virtues  and  whose  general  graces  speak 
That  which  none  else  can  utter.     By  this  marriage 
All  little  jealousies  which  now  seem  great, 
And  all  great  fears  which  now  impart  their  dangers, 
Would  then  be  nothing  :  truths  would  be  tales, 


148  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

Where  now  half  tales  be  truths  :  her  love  to  both 
Would  each  to  other  and  all  loves  to  both 
Draw  after  her." 

The  author  breaks  through  the  course  of  this 
martial  play  in  a  picture  of  inimitable  beauty  and 
effulgence,  in  which  the  galley  bearing  Cleopatra 
burns  on  the  mirroring  bosom  of  the  Orontes  : 

Eno.—"  I  will  tell  you. 

The  barge  she  sat  in,  like  a  burnished  throne, 
Burn'd  on  the  water  ;  the  poop  was  beaten  gold  ; 
Purple  the  sails,  and  so  perfumed  that  [silver, 

The  winds  were  lovesick  with  them  ;  the  oars  were 
Which  to  the  tune  of  flutes  kept  stroke  and  made 
The  water  which  they  beat  to  follow  faster, 
As  amorous  of  their  strokes.     For  her  own  person, 
It  beggar'd  all  description  :  she  did  lie 
In  her  pavilion,  cloth-of-gold  of  tissue, 
O'er-picturing  that  Venus  where  we  see 
The  fancy  outwork  nature  :  on  each  side  her 
Stood  pretty  dimpled  boys,  like  smiling  Cupids, 
With  divers-coloured  fans,  whose  wind  did  seem 
To  glow  the  delicate  cheeks  which  they  did  cool, 
And  what  they  undid  did." 

The  description  of  this  beautiful  sorceress  min- 
gles the  intellectual  element  with  the  material. 


ROMAN   TRAGEDIES.  149 

In  the  following  passages  there  is  a  simple  but 
perfectly  expressed,  though  subtle,  thought : 

Menas — "  I  think  the  policy  of  that  purpose  made 
more  in  the  marriage  than  the  love  of  the  parties." 

Eno. — "I  see  men's  judgments  are 
A  parcel  of  their  fortunes,  and  things  outward 
Do  draw  the  inward  quality  after  them, 
To  suffer  all  alike." 

But  the  poet  represents  Antony  as  a  hero ; 
invincible  by  land,  yet  not  so  strong  at  sea  ;  this 
failure  Caesar  took  advantage  of.  Enobarbus  says 
to  Antony  : 

Eno.—"  Most  worthy,  sir,  you  therein  throw  away 
The  absolute  soldiership  you  have  by  land, 
Distract  your  army,  which  doth  most  consist 
Of  war-marked  footmen,  leave  unexecuted 
Your  own  renowned  knowledge,  quite  forego 
The  way  which  promises  assurance,  and 
Give  up  yourself  merely  to  chance  and  hazard, 
From  firm  security." 
Antony—"  How  now,  worthy  soldier  ?  " 
Soldier—"  O  noble  emperor,  do  not  fight  by  sea  : 
Trust  not  to  rotten  planks.     Do  you  misdoubt 
This  sword  and  these  my  wounds  ?    Let  the  Egyptians 
And  the  Phoenicians  go  a-ducking  :  we 


150  THE   READING   OP  SHAKESPEARE. 

Have  used  to  conquer,  standing  on  the  earth 
And  fighting  foot  to  foot." 

Eno. — "  Antony  only,  that  would  make  his  will 
Lord  of  his  reason.     What  though  you  fled 
From  that  great  face  of  war,  whose  several  ranges 
Frighted  each  other,  why  should  he  follow  ? 
The  itch  of  his  affection  should  not  then 
Have  nick'd  his  captainship  :  at  such  a  point, 
When  half  to  half  the  world  opposed,  he  being 
The  mered  question  ;  'twas  a  shame  no  less 
Than  was  his  loss,  to  course  your  flying  flags 
And  leave  his  navy  gazing." 

As  before  indicated,  the  unity  of  Antony's  char- 
acter is  surprisingly  kept  throughout — from  begin- 
ning to  end  Shakespeare  has  the  same  conception 
of  it.  He  makes  its  subjective  features  immortal, 
torus  et  teres. 

Plutarch's  rough  sketch  of  Antony  has  been 
filled  out  and  transformed  by  the  dramatist,  mak- 
ing a  complex  character,  kept  down  by  an  enslave- 
ment to  his  lower  nature  that  forbids  its  rising  to  a 
lofty  height  except  at  intervals. 

There  is  the  warrior  in  gleaming  arms,  driving 
back,  single  handed,  the  advancing  enemy,  and 


ROMAN  TRAGEDIES.  151 

there  is  the  weak  Antony,  captured  by  a  woman's 
wiles.  Nevertheless,  Shakespeare  has  lifted  him 
above  ordinary  men,  as  a  leader,  one  of  the  bril- 
liant heroes  of  the  world,  but  powerless  through 
unworthy  passion. 

Cleopatra  is  set  before  us  as  a  queenly  spirit ; 
she  does  love  Antony  as  much  as  such  a  hard,  sel- 
fish nature  could  love  anything  out  of  itself.  Some 
of  her  haughty  words  are  : 

Cleopatra—  "These  hands  do  lack  nobility,  that 

they  strike 

A  meaner  than  myself  ;  since  I  myself 
Have  given  myself  the  cause." 

11  Most  kind  messenger, 
Say  to  great  Caesar  this  :  in  deputation 
I  kiss  his  conquering  hand  ;  tell  him,  I'm  prompt 
To  lay  my  crown  at's  feet,  and  there  to  kneel : 
Tell  him,  from  his  all-obeying  breath  I  hear 
The  doom  of  Egypt." 

1 '  Noblest  of  men,  woo't  die  ? 
Hast  thou  no  care  of  me  ?  shall  I  abide 
In  this  dull  world,  which  in  thy  absence  is 
No  better  than  a  sty  ?    O,  see,  my  women, 
The  crown  of  the  earth  doth  melt.     My  Lord  ! 


152  THE    READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

O,  wither'd  is  the  garland  of  the  war, 
The  soldier's  pole  is  fall'n  :  young  boys  and  girls 
Are  level  now  with  men  ;  the  odds  is  gone, 
And  there  is  nothing  left  remarkable 
Beneath  the  visiting  moon." 

"  No  more,  but  e'en  a  woman,  and  commanded 
By  such  poor  passion  as  the  maid  that  milks 
And  does  the  meanest  chares.    It  were  for  me 
To  throw  my  sceptre  at  the  injurious  gods, 
To  tell  them  that  this  world  did  equal  theirs 
All's  but  naught ;" 

"  Patience  is  sottish,  and  impatience  does 
Become  a  dog  that's  mad  :  then  is  it  sin 
To  rush  into  the  secret  house  of  death, 
Ere  death  dare  come  to  us  ?    How  do  you,  women  ? 
What,  what !  good  cheer  !  Why,  how  now,  Charmain  ! 
My  noble  girls  !  Ah,  women,  women,  look, 
Our  lamp  is  spent,  it's  out !  Good  sirs,  take  heart ; 
We'll  bury  him  ;  and  then,  what's  brave,  what's  noble, 
Let's  do  it  after  the  high  Roman  fashion, 
And  make  death  proud  to  take  us.     Come,  away : 
This  case  of  that  huge  spirit  now  is  cold  : 
Ah,  women,  women  !    Come  :  we  have  no  friend 
But  resolution  and  the  briefest  end." 

"Where  art  thou,  death? 
Come  hither,  come !  come,  come,  and  take  a  queen 


ROMAN  TRAGEDIES.  153 

With  many  babes  and  beggars ! " 
"  Sir,  I  will  eat  no  meat,  I'll  not  drink,  sir ; 
If  idle  talk  will  once  be  necessary, 
I'll  not  sleep  neither  :  this  mortal  house  I'll  nun, 
Do  Caesar  what  he  can.     Know,  sir,  that  I 
Will  not  wait  pinion'd  at  your  master's  court, 
Nor  once  be  chastised  with  the  sober  eye 
Of  dull  Octavia.    Shall  they  hoist  me  up, 
And  show  me  to  the  shouting  varletry 
Of  censuring  Rome  ?    Rather  a  ditch  in  Egypt 
Be  gentle  grave  unto  me  !  rather  on  Nile's  mud 
Lay  me  stark  naked,  and  let  the  water-flies 
Blow  me  into  abhorring  !  rather  make 
My  country's  high  pyramids  my  gibbet, 
And  hang  me  up  in  chains." 
"  But  when  he  meant  to  quail  and  shake  the  orb  ; 

He  was  as  rattling  thunder." 
"  Or  I  shall  show  the  cinders  of  my  spirits 
Through  the  ashes  of  my  chance  :  wert  thou  a  man, 
Thou  wouldst  have  mercy  on  me." 

Then  comes  Antony,  convulsed  by  the  false 
report  of  Cleopatra's  death  which  she  had  sent. 
He  says  to  Eros  : 

Antony —  "Since  Cleopatra  died 

I  have  lived  in  such  dishonour  that  the  gods 


154  THB   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

Detest  my  baseness.     I,  that  with  my  sword 

Quarter'd  the  world,  and  o'er  green  Neptune's  back 

With  ships  made  cities,  condemn  myself  to  lack 

The  courage  of  a  woman  ;  less  noble  minded 

Than  she  which  by  her  death  our  Caesar  tells 

I  am  conqueror  of  myself.     '  Thou  are  sworn,  Eros,' 

That,  when  the  exigent  should  come — which  now 

Is  come  indeed — when  I  should  see  behind  me 

The  inevitable  prosecution  of 

Disgrace  and  horror,  that,  on  my  command, 

Thou  then  would'st  kill  me  :  do't ;  the  time  is  come. 

Thou  strik'st  not  me,  'tis  Caesar  thou  defeat'st 

Put  colour  in  thy  cheek." 

Eros—  "  My  dear  master, 

My  captain,  and  my  emperor,  let  me  say, 
Before  I  strike  this  bloody  stroke,  farewell ! " 
•'  Why,  there  then  ;  thus  I  do  escape  the  sorrow 

Of  Antony's  death." 

(kills  himself) 

(Antony  falls  on  his  sword) 
Antony —  "  Peace  ! 

Not  Caesar's  valour  hath  o'erthrown  Antony, 
But  Antony's  hath  triumph 'd  on  itself." 

"  The  miserable  change  now  at  my  end 
Lament  nor  sorrow  at ;  but  please  your  thoughts 
In  feeding  them  with  those  my  former  fortunes, 


ROMAN  TRAGEDIES.  155 

Wherein  I  lived,  the  greatest  prince  of  the  world, 
The  noblest,  and  do  now  not  basely  die, 
Nor  cowardly  put  off  my  helmet  to 
My  countrymen,  a  Roman  by  a  Roman 
Valiantly  vanquish'd.     Now  my  spirit  is  going ; 
I  can  no  more." 

Then  Caesar,  entering  the  room,  says  : 

Ccssar —  "  O,  Antony  ! 

I  have  follow'd  thee  to  this.     But  we  do  lance 
Diseases  in  our  bodies  :  I  must  perforce 
Have  shown  to  thee  such  a  declining  day, 
Or  look'd  on  thine  ;  we  could  not  stall  together 
In  the  whole  world  :  but  yet  let  me  lament, 
With  tears  as  sovereign  as  the  blood  of  hearts, 
That  thou,  my  brother,  my  competitor 
In  top  of  all  design,  my  mate  in  empire, 
Friend  and  companion  in  the  front  of  war, 
The  arm  of  mine  own  body  and  the  heart 
Where  mine  his  thoughts  did  kindle,  that  our  stars 
Unreconcilable  should  divide 
Our  equalness  to  this.     Hear  me,  good  friends." 

Cleopatra  is  a  wonder  of  wonders — she  is  Greek, 
not  Egyptian.  Her  portrait  on  the  walls  of  the 
Temple  of  Denderah  show  an  Egyptian  artist's 


156  THE    READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

attempt  to  depict  Greek  beauty  under  an  Egyptian 
type,  but  not  very  successfully.  Shakespeare,  it 
is  likely,  never  had  seen  a  woman  just  like  her  in 
all  points,  and  no  one  else  has  before  or  since,  but 
he  made  up  her  varied  traits  into  a  whole  from 
imagination.  There  are  words  in  this  play  which 
I  could  quote,  but  which,  I  would  almost  say,  I 
dare  not,  for  it  is  Shakespeare  alone  who  could  use 
them.  His  powerful  genius  is  like  a  winged  Mer- 
cury that  flies  lightly  over  the  abyss.  Cleopatra's 
beauty,  strength  of  will,  and  surpassingly  bright 
intelligence  make  her  the  romantic  and  even  his- 
toric symbol  to  the  world  of  a  temptress  to  evil. 
Shakespeare  has  mainly  created  this.  She  destroys 
whatever  stands  in  her  ruthless  and  ruinous  path. 
She  exults  in  her  wicked  conquest  of  a  noble  char- 
acter. 

Her  own  imaginary  sepulchre  on  the  banks  of 
the  Nile,  to  herself  and  Antony,  grand  and  gor- 
geous, casts  its  shadow  with  the  pyramids  and  the 
Sphinx  on  the  river  where  the  white  sails  appear 
and  disappear  like  spectres. 

"Antony,  Antony,  Antony," 


ITALIAN  PLAYS.  157 

was  not  a  cry  of  affection  which  lasts  after  death, 
but  the  loss  of  an  earthly  lover. 

She  was  Egypt's  proud  queen  still,  and  killed 
herself,  not  from  love  to  share  death  with  Antony, 
but  because  she  would  not  suffer  herself  to  be 
made  a  Roman  spectacle  in  Caesar's  triumph. 


ITALIAN  PLAYS. 

TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 

The  scene  of  the  "Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  " 
is  laid  for  the  most  part  in  Verona  with  its  ancient 
amphitheatre,  its  bridges,  and  the  stately  palace  of 
Can  Grande  Scala,  above  all  its  memories  of  Dante 
and  those  illustrious  exiles  who  sought  here  a 
home. 

It  is  an  Italian  love  story,  and  Valentine  talks 
with  the  free  vigor  of  a  young  man,  gay  measure 
and  the  caprices  of  the  master  passion,  in  which 
woman  plays  a  gentle  and  refined  part.  The  old 
Elizabethan  drama,  like  the  plays  of  ^Sschylus 
and  Sophocles,  needs  the  stage  to  set  it  off,  and 
living  persons  to  carry  out  its  action.  The  Eliza- 


158  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

bethan  drama  is  at  the  present  day  displaced  by 
the  novel,  but  whether  the  novel  teaches  us  man- 
ners and  morals,  and  influences  these  as  strongly 
as  the  drama,  is  a  question.  Certainly  the  descrip- 
tion of  nature  in  the  novel  is  often  artificial,  con- 
ventional, and  empty,  compared  with  the  lively 
dialogue  of  real  persons,  the  nimble  wit,  and  the 
rounded  action  awakening  poetic  emotion.  This 
is  hardly  made  up  by  the  critical  analysis  of  char- 
acter in  the  novel.  Assuredly  nothing  in  succeed- 
ing fictitious  literature  has  left  such  a  vivid 
impression  of  personality  as  Rosalind,  Portia,  Fal- 
staff,  and  Hamlet  in  the  Shakespearean  drama. 
They  live  and  will  ever  live  ;  on  the  stage  or  in  the 
closet  they  are  equally  vivid. 

In  the  "Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona"  the  dia- 
logue is  graceful,  easy  and  natural,  with  wonder- 
ful rhythm  and  poetic  smoothness.  Valentine 
says  : 

"  Home-keeping  youths  have  ever  homely  wits." 

Julia,  beloved  of  Proteus,  enters  into  an  encounter 
with  her  smart- witted  waiting  woman,  Lucetta, 
and  says : 


ITALIAN   PLAYS.  159 

Julia —     ' '  Your  reason  ? ' ' 

Lucetta — "  I  have  no  other  but  a  woman's  reason  ; 

I  think  him  so,  because  I  think  him  so." 

Proteus  is  the  more  romantic  and  ardent  of  the 
two,  and  Valentine  the  more  worldly,  though  a 
little  more  inclined  to  coarseness  ;  but  there  is  a 
good  deal  in  the  play  that  makes  it  a  drama  of 
friendship.  Shakespeare's  own  youth  and  friend- 
ship may  be  interwoven  in  it,  though  in  modern 
fiction  the  author  might  draw  his  facts  from  the 
stock  exchange. 

Romance  retires  with  shy  step  ;  the  past  has  van- 
ished ;  the  actor  is  the  newspaper  chronicler,  not 
the  poet.  But  time  changes,  the  age  has  grown 
scientific  and  prosaic,  actual  fact  and  the  primitive 
emotions  in  poetry  have  vanished,  and  even  Tenny- 
son cannot  bring  them  back. 

The  two  gentlemen  of  Verona  talk  to  each  other 
in  an  easy,  natural  way.  Valentine  tries  to  per- 
suade his  friend  to  travel  and  see  the  world. 
They  were  true  friends  ;  they  confided  their  deep- 
est secrets  to  one  another  ;  they  aided  each  other's 
schemes  in  peace  or  war.  They  overlooked  petty 


160  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

differences  of  opinion ;  but  Proteus  was  the  more 
ardent  lover  and  had  the  most  difficult  road  to 
travel  to  escape  on  account  of  the  temper  and  rank 
of  the  Duke  of  Milan,  Silvia's  father. 

Proteus  felt  more  keenly  the  changes  and  disap- 
pointments of  love's  contest.  He  says,  fiery  and 
poetic: 

"  O,  how  this  spring  of  love  resembleth 
The  uncertain  glory  of  an  April  day, 
Which  now  shows  all  the  beauty  of  the  sun, 
And  by  and  by  a  cloud  takes  all  away." 

In  contrast  to  this  flight,  Speed,  Valentine's 
man,  says  : 

"Though  the  chameleon  Love  can  feed  on  the  air,  I  am 
one  that  am  nourished  by  my  victuals,  and  would  fain  have 
it." 


Launce,  a  shy  dog,  makes  pure  comedy  : 

"I  think  Crab  my  dog  be  the  sourest-natured  dog  that 
lives :  my  mother  weeping,  my  father  wailing,  my  sister 
crying,  our  maid  howling,  our  cat  wringing  her  hands,  and 
all  our  house  in  a  great  perplexity,  yet  did  not  this  cruel - 
hearted  cur  shed  one  tear :  he  is  a  stone,  a  very  pebble 
stone,  and  has  no  more  oitv  in  him  than  a  doe." 


ITALIAN   PLAYS.  l6l 

Speed,  the  true  wag,  describing  his  master  Val- 
entine's signs  of  love,  says  : 

Valentine — "  Why,  how  know  you  that  I  am  in  love  ?  " 
Speed — "Marry,  by  these  special  marks  :  first,  you  have 
learned,  like  Sir  Proteus,  to  wreathe  your  arms,  like  a  mal- 
content ;  to  relish  a  love-song,  like  a  robin-redbreast ;  to 
walk  alone,  like  one  that  had  the  pestilence ;  to  sigh,  like 
a  school-boy  that  had  lost  his  A  B  C  ;  to  weep,  like  a  young 
wench  that  had  buried  her  grandam  ;  to  fast,  like  one  that 
takes  diet ;  to  watch,  like  one  that  fears  robbing ;  to  speak 
puling,  like  a  beggar  at  Hallowmass.  You  were  wont,  when 
you  laughed,  to  crow  like  a  cock  ;  when  you  walked,  to 
walk  like  one  of  the  lions ;  when  you  fasted,  it  was  pres- 
ently after  dinner  ;  when  you  looked  sadly,  it  was  for  want 
of  money  :  and  now  you  are  metamorphosed  with  a  mistress, 
that,  when  I  look  on  you,  I  can  hardly  think  you  my 
master. " 

But  after  all,  the  love  of  Valentine  was  more 
true  than  that  of  Proteus,  and  he  perhaps  the 
nobler  gentleman.  Carried  away  by  the  new 
passion  for  Silvia,  Proteus,  like  his  name,  changes 
his  love,  while  Julia  remains  loyal  to  him  and 
speaks  a  soul  full  of  poetic  calm  : 

Julia— "  The  current  that  with  gentle  murmur  glides, 

Thou  know'st,  being  stopp'd,  impatiently  doth  rage ; 
ii 


1 62  THE   READING   OF   SHAKESPEARE. 

But  when  his  fair  course  is  not  hindered, 

He  makes  sweet  music  with  th'  enamell'd  stones, 

Giving  a  gentle  kiss  to  every  sedge 

He  overtakcth  in  his  pilgrimage  ; 

And  so  by  many  winding  nooks  he  strays. 

With  willing  sport,  to  the  wide  ocean." 

Silvia,  whom  Valentine  loves,  is  the  Duke  of 
Milan's  daughter.  Valentine  is  banished  and 
goes  through  many  troubles  and  perils,  in  which 
outlaws  mingle  on  the  border-land  forest  of  Man- 
tua— an  Italian  plot  of  masks,  disguises,  escapes, 
and  intrigues  in  a  forest  reminding  one  of  Arden 
Wood,  in  which  a  comparison  is  made  with  Robin 
Hood's  outlaws ;  and  Friar  Lauena,  who  meets 
Silvia,  is  like  the  priest  who  in  Arden  Forest, 
tradition  says,  married  or  betrothed  Shakespeare 
to  Anne  Hathaway. 

At  length  the  denouement  takes  place  when 
Proteus  comes  near  and  appears  to  Silvia,  who  is 
attended  by  Valentine.  Julia  is  present  in  boys' 
clothes  as  page  to  Proteus.  The  disgrace  of  Pro- 
teus and  his  repentance  are  rather  too  artificial  to 
seem  genuine,  but  Valentine  takes  him  to  his 


ITALIAN  PLAYS.  163 

friendship  again,  pronouncing  these  solemn  words  : 
"  Who  by  repentance  is  not  satisfied 
Is  nor  of  heaven  nor  earth  ;  for  these  are  pleas'd, 
By  penitence  th'  Eternal's  wrath's  appeas'd." 

The  one  who  neglects  to  read  "  The  Two  Gen- 
tlemen of  Verona ' '  passes  by  a  play  which  is  full 
of  music  and  harmony,  with  melodious  flow,  simple 
and  natural  in  style,  and  with  but  a  few  coarse 
blots.  It  is  a  song  from  beginning  to  end,  like  the 
brief  poem, 

"Silvia,  and  where  is  Silvia?" 

MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

This  play  is  really  two  plays  in  one.  Its  plan 
probably  follows  that  of  the  original  story  which 
suggested  it.  It  wants  unity,  but  Shakespeare's 
hand  is  everywhere  in  it.  It  would  seem  as  if  he 
himself  must  have  been  one  of  the  "strangers  in 
Venice  "  who  stood  in  the  motley  mart  and  mused 
on  the  Rialto.  There  were  two  quarto  editions 
published  in  1600 ;  it  is  said  by  critics  that  the 
earliest  positive  allusion  to  the  play  was  in  1596,  a 
prolific  period  of  Shakespeare's  literary  life.  The 


1 64  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

play  or  plot  is  doubtless  from  some  original  story. 
The  shining  point  of  the  play  is  the  figure  of 
Portia.  She  seems  a  creation  that  would  unite  the 
seriousness  and  dignity  of  the  English  with  the 
bright  intelligence  and  high  spirit  of  the  American 
maiden.  Her  famous  sentence  regarding  the  pound 
of  flesh,  which  saves  the  life  of  Antonio,  would 
not  be  regarded  as  legal  authority  or  strong 
enough  to  "hold  water  "  in  modern  jurisprudence, 
but  rather  as  an  ingenious  device  to  satisfy  the 
conditions  of  the  play. 

Shy  lock  the  Jew,  whose  moving  forces  of  action 
are  avarice  and  revenge,  is  still  a  man,  and  his 
speech  in  court  in  defence  of  his  humanity  has  a 
dynamic  force  and  will  always  have  its  influence 
to  mitigate  the  injustice  of  the  world  towards  this 
long-enduring  race.  It  is  pleasant  to  think  that 
our  own  country,  America,  is  the  only  one  of  pro- 
fessed Christian  nations  that  has  not  legally 
oppressed  the  Jew,  and  that  they  have  in  this 
land  with  other  American  citizens  perfect  freedom 
to  think,  speak,  and  act,  to  display  their  law- 
abiding  character,  rare  talent  for  trade,  often  their 


ITALIAN   PI«AYS.  165 

haute  finance,  and  their  love  of  the  musical  art. 
Their  civic  and  religious  freedom  is  here  perfectly 
secured,  and  they  may,  possibly  hereafter,  form, 
without  going  back  to  Palestine  flying  "on  the 
shoulders  of  the  Philistines,"  a  conservative  and 
orderly  element  in  our  western  political  life. 

The  elopement  of  Shylock's  daughter  Jessica, 
carrying  with  her  her  father's  ducats  and  jewels, 
throws  an  almost  gay  and  amusing  light  on  the 
fierce  and  lurid  personality  of  Shylock.  I,ove  is 
truly  the  subtle  thief  that  melts  the  flinty  heart 
and  conquers  all. 

Books  might  be  and  have  been  written  on  this 
drama.  It  belongs  to  Shakespeare's  great  plays, 
though  not  the  greatest.  The  characters  of  Portia 
and  Shylock,  one  a  type  of  justice  mingled  with 
mercy  and  the  other  of  race  mingled  with  revenge , 
will  live  as  long  as  the  English  language. 

Antonio,  the  merchant  prince,  ready  to  share  his 
wealth  with  his  friends,  patient  under  adversity 
and  brave  to  face  the  most  deadly  peril,  but  proud 
and  contemptuous  to  the  Jew,  standing  as  he  does 
in  Shylock's  way  by  aiding  those  who  had  been 


1 66  THE   READING   OP  SHAKESPEARE. 

crushed  by  Shylock's  methods,  paying  their  for- 
feitures and  bonds  which  had  been  imposed  upon 
them,  is  a  pleasing  personage,  a  modest  figure  in 
whom  all  our  sympathies  combine. 

The  mart  of  Venice  and  the  Rialto  did  not  form 
the  only  scene  of  action  in  this  complex  play,  but 
the  great  house  at  Belmont,  of  which  Portia  was 
mistress,  also  witnessed  the  beginning  and  ending 
of  the  drama. 

Bassanio — "  In  Belmont  is  a  lady  richly  left ; 
And  she  is  fair,  and,  fairer  than  that  word, 
Of  wondrous  virtues  :  sometimes  from  her  eyes 
I  did  receive  fair  speechless  messages  : 
Her  name  is  Portia  ;  nothing  undervalued 
To  Cato's  daughter,  Brutus'  Portia  : 
Nor  is  the  wide  world  ignorant  of  her  worth ; 
For  the  four  winds  blow  in  from  every  coast 
Renowned  suitors  :  and  her  sunny  locks 
Hang  on  her  temples  like  a  golden  fleece  ; 
Which  makes  her  seat  of  Belmont  Colchos'  strand, 
And  many  Jasons  come  in  quest  of  her." 

The  young  nobleman  lover  says  this  to  his 
wealthy  friend.  His  rivals  are  rich  and  powerful. 
Portia  and  her  maid  Nerissa  discuss  these  suitors 


ITALIAN  PLAYS.  167 

at  Belmont,  but  it  is  early  seen  where  Portia's 
preference  lies,  notwithstanding  her  dead  father's 
stern  requisition  regarding  the  three  caskets.  Bas- 
sanio,  "the  soldier  and  the  scholar,"  has  caught 
both  her  fancy  and  reason.  In  this  love  story  the 
caskets  play  a  part,  and  manifest  the  poet's  view  of 
the  momentous  character  of  Choice.  What  infinite 
events  truly  hang  on  this  word,  which  means  the 
will,  the  heart,  the  deepest  spirit  of  man  taking 
its  final  action. 

The  beginning  or  weaving  of  this  love  story  into 
the  darker  tragedy  of  the  Bond,  so  wide  apart, 
shows  the  power  of  only  the  greatest  dramatist. 
Yet  they  at  length  glide  together  like  the  head 
waters  of  the  divided  Rhine. 

Before  the  final  trial  another  lesser  love  story  is 
wrought  out— that  of  Lorenzo  and  Jessica.  Jessica 
is  a  beautiful  Jewess,  loyally  loving,  but  still  racial 
in  her  fondness  for  gold,  yet  her  love  leads  her  to 
be  a  true  woman  and  give  up  all. 

Lorenzo  is  full  of  romantic  passion  rising  into 
the  loftiest  poetry.  He  says  to  Jessica  : 


168  THE    READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

"How  sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this  bank  ! 
Here  will  we  sit,  and  let  the  sounds  of  music 
Creep  in  our  ears :  soft  stillness  and  the  night 
Become  the  touches  of  sweet  harmony. 
Sit,  Jessica.    Look  how  the  floor  of  heaven 
Is  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold  : 
There's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  behoid'st 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubins ; 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls ; 
But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it" 

This  takes  all  of  earthliness  out  of  passion,  and 
makes  it  ethereal  and  heavenly,  higher  than  nature. 
The  plot  of  this  drama  may  have  arisen  from 
the  ballad  in  "Percy's  Reliques,"  or  far  more 
likely  from  a  story  in  the  Italian  "  The  Gesta 
Romanorum"  but  in  Shy  lock  it  is  refined  by 
Shakespeare's  genius  above  the  common  concep- 
tion of  the  Jew,  when  he  was  treated  like  a  dog 
and  held  to  be  as  having  no  rights.  Shakespeare 
may  have  known  of  the  place  of  the  Jew  in  medie- 
val history,  but  his  just  and  gentle  nature  revolted 
at  this  although  he  knew  the  race  stamp  was  so 


ITALIAN   PLAYS.  169 

deep  as  to  be  almost  ineffaceable.  Still  the  Jew 
represented  the  idea  of  religion.  He  is  chosen  to 
maintain  the  fundamental  truth  of  monotheism. 
The  invention  of  the  "  pound  of  flesh"  is  found 
mainly  in  the  old  stories,  and  has  no  place  in 
legalized  justice,  but  as  has  already  been  said,  it 
is  pure  fiction  that  served  the  author's  purpose  in 
his  drama. 

The  scenery  of  Venice,  its  canals,  the  Rialto  and 
the  Ducal  Palace  stand  before  us  in  their  strong 
and  mystical  colors.  The  very  costumes  of  Shake- 
speare's day  in  Venice,  the  gold  and  silver  robes 
of  the  Doges,  the  embroidered  dresses  of  the 
knights  and  officials  wrapped  in  the  spoils  of  the 
luxurious  East,  the  marine  coloring,  and  the  very 
atmosphere  of  Venice  seem  to  have  been  caught. 

The  medieval  scorn  and  contempt  of  the  Jew 
continued  to  be  held  in  Shakespeare's  day,  so 
that  Shylock's  speech  is  a  proof  of  the  poet's  liber- 
alism and  humanity.  Shylock  for  the  moment 
rose  above  even  his  avarice  and  revenge,  asserting 
the  essential  brotherhood  of  the  human  race.  The 
trial  scene  is  solemn  and  powerful ;  life  and  death 


1 70  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

are  in  its  issues.  The  address  of  Shylock  pours 
like  a  lava  stream  from  his  burning  soul,  fierce 
and  terse,  in  which  the  woes  and  revenges  of  a 
thousand  years  are  condensed.  Sir  Henry  Irving, 
great  artistic  genius  as  he  was,  was  not  quite  able 
to  express  the  full  force  of  the  language.  The 
whetting  of  the  knife  is  not  all.  Irving' s  ren- 
dering, according  to  my  recollection,  was  studied, 
but  failed  in  intellectual  vital  energy. 

Shylock— "To bait  fish  withal :  if  it  will  feed  nothing  else, 
it  will  feed  my  revenge.  He  hath  disgraced  me,  and  hin- 
dered me  half  a  million  ;  laughed  at  my  losses,  mocked  at 
my  gains,  scorned  my  nation,  thwarted  my  bargains,  cooled 
my  friends,  heated  mine  enemies ;  and  what  's  his  reason  ? 
I  am  a  Jew.  Hath  not  a  Jew  eyes  ?  hath  not  a  Jew  hands, 
organs,  dimensions,  senses,  affections,  passions?  fed  with 
the  same  food,  hurt  with  the  same  weapons,  subject  to  the 
same  diseases,  healed  by  the  same  means,  warmed  and 
cooled  by  the  same  winter  and  summer  as  a  Christian  is  ? 
If  you  prick  us,  do  we  not  bleed  ?  if  you  tickle  us,  do  we  not 
laugh  ?  if  you  poison  us,  do  we  not  die  ?  and  if  you  wrong  us, 
shall  we  not  revenge  ?  if  we  are  like  you  in  the  rest,  we  will 
resemble  you  in  that.  If  a  Jew  wrong  a  Christian,  what  is 
his  humility  ?  Revenge.  If  a  Christian  wrong  a  Jew,  what 


ITALIAN   PLAYS.  171 

should  his  sufferance  be  by  Christian  example?  Why, 
revenge.  The  villainy  you  teach  me,  I  will  execute ;  and  it 
shall  go  hard  but  I  will  better  the  instruction." 

His  raucous  voice  is  heard  through  the  silent  court 

room  : 

"I'll  have  my  bond." 

Then  Portia's  exquisite  apostrophe  to  mercy,  run- 
ning like  a  silver  strain  of  music  through  the 
angry  tempest  of  the  play,  incomparable,  rises  into 
the  loftiest  spheres  of  the  heavenly  and  divine  : 

Portia — "The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strain'd, 
It  droppeth  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven 
Upon  the  place  beneath  :  it  is  twice  blest ; 
It  blesseth  him  that  gives  and  him  that  takes  : 
'Tis- mightiest  in  the  mightiest :  it  becomes 
The  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crown  ; 
His  sceptre  shows  the  force  of  temporal  power, 
The  attribute  to  awe  and  majesty, 
Wherein  doth  sit  the  dread  and  fear  of  kings  ; 
But  mercy  is  above  this  sceptred  sway  ; 
It  is  enthroned  in  the  hearts  of  kings, 
It  is  an  attribute  to  God  himself ; 
And  earthly  power  doth  then  show  likest  God's 
When  mercy  seasons  justice.     Therefore,  Jew, 
Though  justice  be  thy  plea,  consider  this, 


172  THE  READING  OP  SHAKESPEARE. 

That,  in  the  course  of  justice,  none  of  us 

Should  see  salvation  :  we  do  pray  for  mercy  ; 

And  that  same  prayer  doth  teach  us  all  to  render 

The  deeds  of  mercy.    I  have  spoken  thus  much 

to  mitigate  the  justice  of  thy  plea ; 

Which  if  thou  follow,  this  strict  court  of  Venice 

Must  needs  give  sentence  'gainst  the  merchant  there." 

ROMEO  AND  JULIET 

In  Verona  once  more  lies  the  scene  of  one  of 
Shakespeare's  greatest  plays.  John  Ruskin  said 
he  could  not  make  Venice  to  be  Italy,  that  it  was 
Italy  and  Venice,  but  this  could  never  be  said  of 
Verona,  "fair  Verona,"  with  its  view  of  the  Alps 
and  encircling  hills  and  its  Roman  Amphitheatre. 
Its  local  atmosphere  is  pure  Italian. 

The  independent  rulers  of  the  great  Italian 
cities,  such  as  Florence,  Milan,  Pisa,  Genoa,  and 
Verona,  founded  those  aristocratic  governments 
that,  as  earlier  in  Athens,  prepared  the  Italian  race 
for  a  future,  more  popular  rule.  Classes,  castes, 
armed  retainers,  mobs,  fierce  quarrels,  and  the  all 
overcoming  love,  which  did  away  with  these  Hues 
of  separation,  existed,  making  it  not  impossible 


ITALIAN    PLAYS.  173 

that  two  such  great  houses  as  those  of  Montague 
and  Capulet  should  find  their  ardent  affiliations,  as 
well  as  fierce  antagonisms. 

This  play  of  "  Romeo  and  Juliet"  is  the  very 
efflorescence,  the  bright  flower  of  Shakespeare's 
dramas  of  romantic  love,  which  absorbs  all  else  ; 
breaking  bonds  and  limits,  changing  life,  sudden, 
brief  and  sweet,  but  with  a  tragic  ending.  It  is  a 
flood  of  accidents  and  surprises.  The  play  has  the 
intrigue,  the  masked  figures  of  Italian  romance, 
the  fire,  the  brief  joy,  and  often  death  of  young 
love.  We  search  in  vain  for  the  tomb  of  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  but  what  matters  if  Achilles  and  Helen 
never  lived,  or  Troy  was  never  besieged,  the  poet 
has  made  them  real. 

Romeo,  the  young  Montague,  is  the  hero  of  the 
play  and  no  weakling.  He  is  of  manly  presence, 
strong  in  love,  fiery  in  action,  his  imagination 
kindled  into  poetic  glow  by  the  master  passion ; 
"good,"  too,  as  acknowledged  by  Capulet,  head 
of  the  hostile  faction  ;  and  yet  Romeo  is  not  the 
only  individuality,  but  there  is  Mercutio,  one  of 
Shakespeare's  inimitable  creations,  and  who  though 


174  TH*  READING  OP  SHAKESPEARE. 

occupying  but  a  brief  space  on  the  stage,  seems  to 
me  more  as  Shakespeare  was  himself  when  unbent 
and  free,  full  of  finest  humor  and  subtle  wit. 
He  could  be  gay  and  he  could  be  stern,  as  when 
Mercutio  describes  Queen  Mab  as  the  ruler  of 
dreams : 

"  O,  then,  I  see  Queen  Mab  hath  been  with  yon. 
She  is  the  fairies'  midwife,  and  she  comes 
In  shape  no  bigger  than  an  agate-stone 
On  the  fore-finger  of  an  alderman, 
Drawn  with  a  team  of  little  atomies 
Athwart  men's  noses  as  they  lie  asleep  : 
Her  waggon-spokes  made  of  long  spinner's  legs ; 
The  cover,  of  the  wings  of  grasshoppers  ; 
Her  traces,  of  the  smallest  spider's  web  ; 
Her  collars,  of  the  moonshine's  watery  beams ; 
Her  whip,  of  cricket's  bone  ;  the  lash,  of  film ; 
Her  waggoner,  a  small  grey-coated  gnat," 

"  Her  chariot  is  an  empty  hazel  nut, 
Made  by  the  joiner  squirrel  or  old  grub, 
Time  out  o'  mind  the  fairies'  coachmakers. 
And  in  this  state  she  gallops  night  by  night 
Through  lovers'  brains,  and  then  they  dream  of  love  ; 
O'er  courtiers'  knees,  that  dream  on  court'sies  straight ; 
O'er  lawyers'  fingers,  who  straight  dream  on  fees ; 


ITALIAN   PLAYS.  175 

O'er  ladies'  lips,  who  straight  on  kisses  dream, 
Which  oft  the  angry  Mab  with  blisters  plagues, 
Because  their  breaths  with  sweetmeats  tainted  are  ; 
Sometimes  she  gallops  o'er  a  courtier's  nose, 
And  then  dreams  he  of  smelling  out  a  suit ; 
And  sometime  comes  she  with  a  tithe-pig's  tail 
Tickling  a  parson's  nose  as  a'  lies  asleep, 
Then  dreams  he  of  another  benefice  ; 
Sometimes  she  driveth  o'er  a  soldier's  neck, 
And  then  dreams  he  of  cutting  foreign  throats, 
Of  breaches,  ambuscadoes,  Spanish  blades, 
Of  healths  five  fathom  deep  ;  and  then  anon 
Drums  in  his  ear,  at  which  he  starts  and  wakes, 
And  being  thus  frighted  swears  a  prayer  or  two, 
And  sleeps  again." 

"  King  Cophetua  loved  a  beggar  maid." 

At  the  masked  ball,  Capulet  says  to  another  old 

noble  : 

"  For  you  and  I  are  past  our  dancing  days." 

Verona  brags  of  Romeo  to  be  a  virtuous  and  well- 
governed  youth.  At  the  ball  in  Capulet's  house 
Romeo  first  sees  Juliet.  In  Capulet's  orchard 
Romeo  says : 

"  I  fear,  too  early  :  for  my  mind  misgives 
Some  consequences,  yet  hanging  in  the  stars, 


1 76  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

Shall  bitterly  begin  his  fearful  date 

With  this  night's  revels,  and  expire  the  term 

Of  a  despised  life  closed  in  my  breast, 

By  some  vile  forfeit  of  untimely  death." 

In  Juliet's  garden  Romeo  speaks  : 

44  But  soft !  what  light  through  yonder  window  breaks? 

It  is  the  east,  and  Juliet  is  the  sun  ! 

Arise,  fair  sun,  and  kill  the  envious  moon," 

44  It  is  my  lady ;  O,  it  is  my  love  ! " 

This  is  poetry  which  blinds  the  sense  of  right 
and  overleaps  all  bounds.  Juliet's  wayward  prat- 
tlings,  she  not  knowing  she  is  overheard,  are  natu- 
ral and  almost  childlike  : 

*4O,  Romeo,  Romeo  !  wherefore  art  thou  Romeo? 

Deny  thy  father  and  refuse  thy  name  ; 

O,  if  thou  wilt  not,  be  but  sworn  my  love, 

And  I'll  no  longer  be  a  Capulet." 

41  Tis  but  thy  name  that  is  my  enemy." 

Mercutio  dies  to  shield  his  friend  Romeo,  and 
Romeo  avenges  his  death  on  Tybalt.  The  tragedy 
deepens  and  draws  towards  its  end.  In  their 
interview  in  the  good  Friar  Laurence's  cell,  Romeo 
and  Juliet  are  wed  with  the  friar's  solemn  parting 
words. 


ITALIAN  PLAYS.  177 

Romeo  is  exiled,  and  on  his  sudden  return  to 
Verona  comes  the  parting  dialogue  between  the 
lovers : 

Juliet — "Wilt  thou  be  gone?  it  is  not  yet  near  day  : 
It  was  the  nightingale,  and  not  the  lark, 
That  pierced  the  fearful  hollow  of  thine  ear  ; 
Nightly  she  sings  on  yond  pomegranate-tree : 
Believe  me,  love,  it  was  the  nightingale." 

Romeo — "It  was  the  lark,  the  herald  of  the  morn, 

No  nightingale  :  look,  love,  what  envious  streaks 

t 

Do  lace  the  severing  clouds  in  yonder  east : 
Night's  candles  are  burnt  out,  and  jocund  day 
Stands  tiptoe  on  the  misty  mountain  tops  : 
I  must  be  gone  and  live,  or  stay  and  die." 

Juliet — "Yond  light  is  not  day-light,  I  know  it,  I : 
It  is  some  meteor  that  the  sun  exhales, 
To  be  to  thee  this  night  a  torch-bearer, 
And  light  thee  on  thy  way  to  Mantua  : 
Therefore  stay  yet ;  thou  need'st  not  to  be  gone." 

Romeo—"  Let  me  be  ta'en,  let  me  be  put  to  death ; 
I  am  content,  so  thou  wilt  have  it  so. 
I'll  say  yon  grey  is  not  the  morning's  eye, 
'Tis  but  the  pale  reflex  of  Cynthia's  brow ; 
Nor  that  is  not  the  lark,  whose  notes  do  beat 
The  vaulty  heaven  so  high  above  our  heads  : 

12 


178  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

I  have  more  care  to  stay  than  will  to  go  : 
Come,  death,  and  welcome  !    Juliet  wills  it  so. 
How  is't,  my  soul?  let's  talk  :  it  is  not  day." 

Juliet—"  It  is,  it  is ;  hie  hence,  be  gone,  away ! 
It  is  the  lark  that  sings  so  out  of  tune, 
Straining  harsh  discords  and  unpl easing  sharps. 
Some  say  the  lark  makes  sweet  division  ; 
This  doth  not  so,  for  she  divideth  us : 
Some  say  the  lark  and  loathed  toad  change  eyes ; 
O,  now  I  would  they  had  changed  voices  too  ! 
Since  arm  from  arm  that  voice  doth  us  affray, 
Hunting  thee  hence  with  hunts-up  to  the  day. 
O,  now  be  gone  :  more  light  and  light  it  grows." 

Romeo—"  More  light  and  light :  more  dark  and  dark 
our  woes." 

The  return  of  Romeo,  the  fatal  mistake,  the  find- 
ing of  Juliet,  supposed  by  him  to  be  dead,  but 
lying  in  a  trance  at  the  Capulet  tomb  in  the 
churchyard ;  Romeo's  piercing  and  mad  words 
addressed  to  Death,  and  his  death  and  that  of 
Juliet  end  this  pathetic  tragedy. 

Romeo —  "  O,  my  love !  my  wife  ! 

Death,  that  hath  sucked  the  honey  of  the  breath, 
Hath  had  no  power  yet  upon  thy  beauty ; 
Thou  art  not  conquer'd  ;  beauty's  ensign  yet 


SOME   LAST   GREAT   PLAYS.  179 

Is  crimson  in  thy  lips  and  in  thy  cheeks, 
And  death's  pale  flag  is  not  advanced  there." 
"  Here's  to  my  love  !     O  true  apothecary ! 
Thy  drugs  are  quick.     Thus  with  a  kiss  I  die." 


It  is  now  needful  for  me  regretfully  to  say  that, 
as  is  the  case  sometimes  with  age,  and  in  my  case 
of  an  age  extending  far  beyond  the  allotted  period 
of  three  score  and  ten,  that  my  eyesight  has  so 
failed  that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  read  a  word, 
and  this  perhaps  may  go  to  excuse  errors.  I  had 
naturally  reserved  for  the  last  a  more  critical  and 
extended  treatment  of  a  few  of  Shakespeare's 
greatest  plays,  and  of  Shakespeare  himself  as  a 
dramatic  author  ;  but  I  am  now  obliged  to  give  up 
the  plan  and  only  speak  briefly  of  some  great 
plays  that  remain. 

SOME  LAST  GREAT  PLAYS. 

THE  TEMPEST. 

Prospero's  Island  still  firmly  stands,  while  the 
lost  Atlantis  has  vanished.  The  majestic  figur.e 
of  Prospero  differs  entirely  from  the  other  persons 


1 80  THE    READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

of  the  play,  and  there  may  be  a  shadow  of  a  reason 
held  by  some,  that  in  his  soliloquy  it  is  Shake- 
speare himself  who  speaks,  as  prophetic  of  his  end. 
This  I  think  is  groundless ;  the  words  belong  con- 
sistently to  the  character  of  the  magician  Prospero, 
who  says : 

"  Ye  elves  of  hills,  brooks,  standing  lakes  and  groves ; 
And  ye  that  on  the  sands  with  print  less  foot 
Do  chase  the  ebbing  Neptune,  and  do  fly  him 
When  he  comes  back  ;  you  demi-puppets  that 
By  moonshine  do  the  green  sour  ringlets  make, 
Whereof  the  ewe  not  bites ;  and  you  whose  pastime 
Is  to  make  midnight  mushrooms,  that  rejoice 
To  hear  the  solemn  curfew ;  by  whose  aid — 
Weak  masters  though  ye  be — I  have  bedimm'd 
The  noontide  sun,  call'd  forth  the  mutinous  winds, 
And  'twixt  the  green  sea  and  the  azured  vault 
Set  roaring  war ;  to  the  dread  rattling  thunder 
Have  I  given  fire,  and  rifted  Jove's  stout  oak 
With  his  own  bolt ;  the  strong-based  promontory 
Have  I  made  shake,  and  by  the  spurs  pluck'd  up 
The  pine  and  cedar  ;  graves  at  my  command 
Have  waked  their  sleepers,  oped,  and  let  them  forth 
By  my  so  potent  art.     But  this  rough  magic 
I  here  abjure ;  and,  when  I  have  required 


SOME   LAST   GREAT  PLAYS.  l8l 

Some  heavenly  music, — which  even  now  I  do, — 
To  work  mine  end  upon  their  senses,  that 
This  airy  charm  is  for,  I'll  break  my  staff, 
Bury  it  certain  fathoms  in  the  earth, 
And  deeper  than  did  ever  plummet  sound 
I'll  drown  my  book." 

The  island  with  its  valleys  and  promontories  is 
of  the  imagination  built  on  clouds,  tempest,  and 
sunshine  ;  here  Romance  rides  upon  the  wings  of 
the  poetic  fancy.  The  exquisite  song  of  Ariel  is 
made  of  sun  and  air,  and  the  sprite  swings  lightly 
as  he  sings  from  the  petal  of  a  delicate  flower — a 
song  of  obedience  to  a  higher  power ;  but  at  the 
same  time  with  a  breath  and  aspiration  after  free- 
dom : 

11  Where  the  bee  sucks,  there  suck  I : 

In  a  cowslip's  bell  I  lie  ; 

There  I  couch  when  owls  do  cry, 

On  the  bat's  back  I  do  fly 

After  summer  merrily. 

Merrily,  merrily,  shall  I  live  now 

Under  the  blossom  that  hangs  on  the  bough." 

The  beastly  monster,  Caliban,  has  in  him  a 
touch  of  humanity  that  also  seeks  for  freedom 


1 82  THE   READING   OF    SHAKESPEARE. 

while  he  snarls  and  creeps  on  the  earth  under 
"his  burden  of  wood."  His  knowledge  of  some 
of  the  subtle  laws  of  nature  makes  him  at  times  a 
philosopher,  even  a  poet.  His  poetry  is  "of  the 
earth  earthy,"  and  never  soars  above  material 
nature.  Prospero  lighted  in  him  an  intellectual 
spark. 

Caliban — "  This  island's  mine,  by  Sycoraz  my  mother, 
Which  thou  takest  from  me.    When  thou  earnest  first, 
Thou  strokcdst  me,  and  madest  much  of  me:  wouldstgiveme 
Water  with  berries  in't ;  and  teach  me  how 
To  name  the  bigger  light,  and  how  the  less, 
That  burn  by  day  and  night :  and  then  I  loved  thee, 
And  show'd  thee  all  the  qualities  o'  th'  isle, 
The  fresh  springs,  brine-pits,  barren  place  and  fertile  : 
Cursed  be  I  that  did  so !    All  the  charms 
Of  Sycorax,  toads,  beetles,  bats,  light  on  you  ! 
For  I  am  all  the  subjects  that  you  have, 
Which  first  was  mine  own  king  :  and  here  you  sty  me 
In  this  hard  rock,  whiles  you  do  keep  from  me 
The  rest  o'  th'  island." 

"  You  taught  me  language ;  and  my  profit  on"c 
Is,  I  know  how  to  curse.     The  red  plague  rid  you 
For  learning  me  your  language !  " 


SOME   LAST   GREAT   PLAYS.  183 

"No,  pray  thee. 

(Aside)  I  must  obey  :  his  art  is  of  such  power 
It  would  control  my  dam's  god,  Setebos, 
And  make  a  vassal  of  him. ' ' 

When  the  drunken  sailors,  Stephano  and  Trin- 
culo,  reeled  on  the  scene,  Caliban  says  to  Trin- 
culo : 

11  Hast  thou  not  dropp'd  from  heaven  ?  " 

"  I'll  show  thee  every  fertile  inch  o'  th'  island  ; 
And  I  will  kiss  thy  foot :  I  prithee,  be  my  god." 

1  I'll  kiss  thy  foot ;  I'll  swear  myself  the  subject." 

"I'll  show  thee  the  best  springs :  I'll  pluck  thee  berries ; 
I'll  fish  for  thee,  and  get  thee  wood  enough. 
A  plague  upon  the  tyrant  that  I  serve." 

"  Be  not  af eared ;  the  isle  is  full  of  noises, 
Sounds  and  sweet  airs,  that  give  delight,  and  hurt  not. 
Sometimes  a  thousand  twangling  instruments 
Will  hum  about  mine  ears ;  and  sometime  voices, 
That,  if  I  then  had  waked  after  long  sleep, 
Will  make  me  sleep  again  :  and  then,  in  dreaming, 
The  clouds  methought  would  open,  and  show  riches 
Ready  to  drop  upon  me  ;  that,  when  I  waked, 
I  cried  to  dream  again." 

Caliban,   though  a   creature   of  the   imagination, 


1 84  THE   READING  OP  SHAKESPEARE. 

is  worth  study  by  the  scientist  as  Shakespeare's 
conception  of  the  connecting  link  between  beast 
and  man  ;  in  this  case  at  their  worst. 

At  last  compelled  to  recognize  Prospero's  power 
and  virtue,  Caliban  says  : 

"  Ay,  that  I  will :  and  Til  be  wise  hereafter 
And  seek  for  grace.    What  a  thrice-double  ass 
Was  I,  to  take  this  drunkard  for  a  god, 
And  worship  this  dull  fool." 

The  only  real  humanities  in  the  play  are 
Miranda  and  Ferdinand.  They  love  each  other 
with  a  sweet  and  natural  affection,  although  dis- 
ciplined by  the  heavy  burdens  put  upon  them. 
Miranda  is  a  lovely  child  of  nature,  and  one  of 
Shakespeare's  purely  feminine  creations.  When 
Miranda  asks  Ferdinand  who  he  is,  Ferdinand, 
thinking  his  father  had  perished  in  the  shipwreck, 
says  with  aristocratic  spirit : 

41 1  am  Naples." 

The  play  ends  in  joy  and  happiness,  the  tempestu- 
ous clouds  clear  away,  and  the  island  that  never 
existed,  but  will  immortally  live,  comes  forth  once 


SOME   LAST  GREAT  PI<AYS.  185 

more  in  its  beauty  under  a  serenely  blue  Italian 
sky. 

MACBETH. 

Macbeth' s  character  is  not  to  be  judged  rashly, 
for  it  is  a  mixed  character.  He  was  not  a  thorough- 
going ruffian  or  tyrant ;  his  moral  nature  was  not 
constitutionally  bad,  nay,  in  some  things  human 
and  good.  He  was  met  by  a  most  violent  tempta- 
tion presented  to  his  ambitious  nature,  to  be  great, 
to  be  a  king.  He  shrank  at  first  from  this  temp- 
tation, but  was  overcome  chiefly  by  the  will  of  his 
wife,  who  towered  above  him  in  her  own  wicked 
ambition. 

The  date  of  the  play  of  "  Macbeth  "  was  ascribed 
by  Malone  to  1606,  but  the  proof  of  this  is  unsatis- 
factory. It  undoubtedly  belonged  to  the  last  ten 
years  of  Shakespeare's  life,  between  the  dates  of 
1 '  Julius  Caesar ' '  and  ' '  Hamlet. ' '  There  is  strong 
proof  that  it  was  written  after  the  conjunction  of 
England  and  Scotland,  under  the  reign  of  James  I. 

The  scene  is  laid  in  that  picturesque  and  rugged 
land  of  mountains  and  vales,  deep  lakes,  and 
unconquerable  men,  made  familiar  in  the  pages  of 


1 86  THE   READING   OF   SHAKESPEARE. 

Walter  Scott,  who  drew  his  inspiration  from  the 
grander  genius  of  Shakespeare. 

The  story  of  "  Macbeth  "  is  found  in  the  older 
chronicles,  whose  truth  or  fiction  it  is  now  hard  to 
discover,  but  there  may  have  been  some  ground 
for  the  tradition  in  the  ancient  history  of  Scotland  ; 
at  all  events,  it  suits  those  stormy  skies  and  wilder 
times.  The  opening  scene  of  the  witches  on  the 
"  blasted  heath, " 

"  Hovering  through  the  fog  and  filthy  air," 

seems  to  signify  the  first  false  promises  of  unhal- 
lowed ambition  to  the  soul  of  Macbeth,  paltering 
with  the  spirits  of  evil.  Their  three  words,  weird, 
bold,  and  broken : 

"  Hail  to  thee,  thane  of  Glamis  ?  " 

"  Hail  to  thee,  thane  of  Cawdor  !  " 

"  All  hail,  Macbeth,  that  shalt  be  king  hereafter  !  " 

These  words  seem  to  rise  like  the  barren  scenery 
around,  cliff  above  cliff  into  the  sky,  and  are  lost. 
They  are  indeed  portentous  dreams  : 

"The  earth  hath  bubbles  as  the  water  has, 
And  these  are  of  them." 


SOME  LAST  GREAT   PLAYS.  187 

Yet  these  "  instruments  of  darkness"  speak  some 
truths  in  the  perilous  story.  We  go  on  : 

"Time  and  the  hour  runs  through  the  roughest  day." 

Macbeth  attains  the  first  two  titles,  but  the  last 
involves  his  own  choice  and  criminal  destruc- 
tion : 

"Then  when  lust  hath  conceived  it  bringeth  forth  sin  : 
and  sin  when  it  is  finished,  bringeth  forth  death." 

Cawdor's  death  is  marked  in  memorable  words 
by  Malcolm,  who  says  to  the  King,  his  father : 

Malcolm—        "But  I  have  spoke 
With  one  that  saw  him  die  :  who  did  report 
That  very  frankly  he  confess'd  his  treasons, 
Implored  your  highness'  pardon  and  set  forth 
A  deep  repentance  :  nothing  in  his  life 
Became  him  like  the  leaving  it ;  he  died 
As  one  that  had  been  studied  in  his  death, 
To  throw  away  the  dearest  thing  he  owed, 
As  'twere  a  careless  trifle." 

Macbeth  speaks  loyally  when  he  meets  the  king, 
and  it  is  difficult  to  see  that  he  is  not  for  the 
moment  sincere. 


1 88  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

Lady  Macbeth  receives  her  husband's  letter  tell- 
ing of  the  witches'  prophecy  of  Macbeth  being  made 
king.     Reading  that  letter,  she*  exclaims  : 
"Glamis  thou  art,  and  Cawdor,  and  shall  be 
What  thou  art  promised :  yet  do  I  fear  thy  nature : 
It  is  too  fall  o*  the  milk  of  human  kindness 
To  catch  the  nearest  way  :  thou  wouldst  be  great ; 
Art  not  without  ambition,  but  without 
The  illness  should  attend  it ;  what  thou  wouldst  highly 
That  wouldst  thou  holily  :  wouldst  not  play  false 
And  yet  wouldst  wrongly  win  ;  thou'dst  have,  great 

Glamis, 

That  which  cries,  '  Thus  thou  must  do,  if  thou  have  it  • 
And  that  which  rather  thou  dost  fear  to  do 
Than  wishes!  should  be  undone.'    Hie  thee  hither, 
That  I  may  pour  my  spirits  in  thine  ear, 
And  chastise  with  the  valour  of  my  tongue 
All  that  impedes  thee  from  the  golden  round, 
Which  fate  and  metaphysical  aid  doth  seem 
To  have  thee  crown'd  withal." 

This  curious  use  of  the  word  ' '  metaphysical ' '  as 
applied  here  to  the  spiritual  foes  that  impede  Mac- 
beth's  grasp  of  the  "golden  round,"  looks  as  if 
Lady  Macbeth  were  genuinely  Scotch  in  her  phil- 
osophy. 


SOME   LAST   GREAT   PLAYS.  189 

The  approach  of  Duncan  to  the  castle  of  Inver- 
ness is  of  exquisite  realness,  Nature  above  and 
around  shining  in  the  crystal  morning  light.  Dun- 
can speaks  : 

"This  castle  hath  a  pleasant  seat ;  the  air 
Nimbly  and  sweetly  recommends  itself 
Unto  our  gentle  senses." 

Banquo —  ' '  This  guest  of  summer, 

The  temple-haunting  martlet,  does  approve 
By  his  loved  mansionry  that  the  heaven's  breath 
Smells  wooingly  here  :  no  jutty,  frieze, 
Buttress,  nor  coign  of  vantage,  but  this  bird 
Hath  made  his  pendent  bed  and  procreant  cradle : 
Where  they  most  breed  and  haunt,  I  have  observed 
The  air  is  delicate." 

The  sparkling  brightness  of  the  morning  air, 
the  medieval  castle  with  its  arched,  carved  door- 
way and  lofty  towers,  the  peace  of  all  things  indi- 
cate little  of  the  somber  terrors  that  wait  within 
the  walls.  Lady  Macbeth 's  smooth  and  courtly 
welcome  all  bespeaks  peace,  and  Macbeth,  coming 
home  to  Inverness,  says  to  his  wife,  who  urges 
him  to  the  deed,  in  low  tones,  and  half  to  him- 
self: 


190  THE  READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

"If  it  were  done  when  'tis  done,  then  'twere  well 
It  were  done  quickly  :  if  the  assassination 
Could  trammel  up  the  consequence,  and  catch, 
With  his  surcease,  success ;  that  but  this  blow 
Might  be  the  be-all  and  the  end-all  here, 
But  here,  upon  this  bank  and  shoal  of  time, 
We'ld  jump  the  life  to  come." 

"  This  even-handed  justice 

Commends  the  ingredients  of  our  poison 'd  chalice 
To  our  own  lips." 

"Besides,  this  Duncan 
Hath  borne  his  faculties  so  meek,  hath  been 
So  clear  in  his  great  office,  that  his  virtues 
Will  plead  like  angels,  trumpet-tongued,  against 
The  deep  damnation  of  his  taking-off." 

Lady  Macbeth  still  plies  him,  appealing  to  his 
courage  as  a  man. 

Macbeth — "We  will  proceed  no  further  in  this 
He  hath  honour'd  me  of  late ;  "  [business  : 

Lady  Macbeth—  "  Art  thou  afeard 

To  be  the  same  in  thine  own  act  and  valour 
As  thou  art  in  desire  ?    Wouldst  thou  have  that 
Which  thou  esteem'st  the  ornament  of  life, 
And  live  a  coward  in  thine  own  esteem, 
Letting  '  I  dare  not '  wait  upon  '  I  would  ? '  " 


SOME  LAST   GREAT  PLAYS.  191 

Macbeth—  ' '  Prithee,  peace  : 

I  dare  do  all  that  may  become  a  man ; 
Who  dares  do  more  is  none." 

Lady  Macbeth—  ' '  What  beast  was't,  then, 

That  made  you  break  this  enterprise  to  me  ? 
When  you  durst  do  it,  then  you  were  a  man  ; 
And,  to  be  more  than  what  you  were,  you  would 
Be  so  much  more  the  man.     Nor  time  nor  place 
Did  then  adhere,  and  yet  you  would  make  both  : 
They  have  made  themselves,  and  that  their  fitness  now 
Does  unmake  you.     I  have  given  suck,  and  know 
How  tender  'tis  to  love  the  babe  that  milks  me : 
I  would,  while  it  was  smiling  in  my  face, 
Have  pluck'd  my  nipple  from  its  boneless  gums, 
And  dash'd  the  brains  out,  had  I  so  sworn  as  you 
Have  done  to  this." 

In  another  scene  Macbeth,  alone,  apostrophizes 
the  airy  dagger : 

"  Is  this  a  dagger  which  I  see  before  me, 
The  handle  toward  my  hand  ?    Come,  let  me  clutch 

thee. 

I  have  thee  not,  and  yet  I  see  thee  still. 
Art  thou  not,  fatal  vision,  sensible 
To  feeling  as  to  sight  ?  or  art  thou  but 
A  dagger  of  the  mind,  a  false  creation, 


192  THE   READING   OF   SHAKESPEARE. 

Proceeding  from  the  heat-oppressed  brain  ? 

I  see  thee  yet,  in  form  as  palpable 

As  this  which  now  I  draw. 

Thou  marshall'st  me  the  way  that  I  was  going  ; 

And  such  an  instrument  I  was  to  use. 

Mine  eyes  are  made  the  fools  o'  the  other  senses 

Or  else  worth  all  the  rest :  I  see  thee  still ; 

And  on  thy  blade  and  dudgeon  gouts  of  blood, 

Which  was  not  so  before.    There's  ho  such  thing  : 

It  is  the  bloody  business  which  informs 

Thus  to  mine  eyes.     Now  o'er  the  one  half -world 

Nature  seems  dead,  and  wicked  dreams  abuse 

The  curtained  sleep." 

The  motives  of  the  horrid  deed  to  be  done  work 
fast,  like  poison,  and  reason  is  thrown  to  the 
winds.  The  crafty  preparation  for  the  murder, 
the  drugged  grooms,  the  watch  slain,  the  deep 
gloom  lighted  only  by  a  feeble  lamp ;  the  silence 
so  great  that  the  softest  footstep  can  be  heard  in 
the  long  corridor,  the  screech  of  the  midnight 
owl  after  the  deed  was  done,  the  whispered  talk 
between  Macbeth  and  his  wife  in  which  he  already 
shrinks  from  his  dreadful  deed,  and  the  voice  that 
cried : 


SOME;  LAST  GREAT  PLAYS.  193 

"  Sleep  no  more  ! 
Macbeth  does  murder  sleep," 

The  innocent  sleep, 

"  Sleep  that  knits  up  the  ravell'd  sleave  of  care, 
The  death  of  each  day's  life,  sore  labour's  bath, 
Balm  of  hurt  minds,  great  nature's  second  course, 
Chief  nourisher  in  life's  feast," 

smearing  of  the  sleepy  grooms  with  blood ;  these 
only  can  be  told  by  Shakespeare. 

Macbeth' s   description   of  the   murdered    king, 
half  true,  half  false,  follows  : 

Macbeth—  ' '  Here  lay  Duncan, 

His  silver  skin  laced  with  his  golden  blood, 
And  his  gash'd  stabs  look'd  like  a  breach  in  nature 
For  ruin's  wasteful  entrance." 

A  cunning,  devilish  policy  lays  the  crime  on 
Duncan's  sons,  Malcolm  and  Donalbain,  who  have 
fled.  The  plot  thickens,  and  murderous  peril 
threatens  Banquo  and  Fleance.  Then  comes  the 
gloomy  banquet  scene  in  the  hall,  where  Macbeth 
sees  the  procession  of  ghostly  visions,  that  raise 
him  to  his  feet  staring,  which  only  can  be  dis- 
13 


194  THE  READING  OP  SHAKESPEARE. 

pelled  by  Lady  Macbeth' s  overmastering  will. 
The  ghost  of  Banquo  coming,  Macbeth  exclaims  : 

"  Thou  canst  not  say  I  did  it :  never  shake 
Thy  gory  locks  at  me." 

The  supper  ends  in  terror  and  confusion. 

Hecate,  in  a  thunder  storm  on  the  heath,  inter- 
feres with  the  witches'  plan,  and  speaks  : 
"  Upon  the  corner  of  the  moon 

There  hangs  a  vaporous  drop  profound ; 

I'll  catch  it  ere  it  come  to  ground : 

And  that  distill'd  by  magic  sleights 

Shall  raise  such  artificial  sprites 

As  by  the  strength  of  their  illusion 

Shall  draw  him  on  to  his  confusion." 

Again   the  witches    meet    around   the    boiling 
cauldron  and  sing  their  weird  song  : 
"  Double,  double  toil  and  trouble ; 
Fire  burn,  and  cauldron  bubble." 

The  supernatural  breaks  into  the  steady  whirl  of 
nature's  laws  of  retribution.  Macbeth,  coming 
into  their  circle  in  a  storm,  demands  : 

11  Though  you  untie  the  winds  and  let  them  fight 
Against  the  churches  :  though  the  yesty  waves 


SOME  LAST  GREAT  PLAYS.  195 

Confound  and  swallow  navigation  up  : 

Though  bladed  corn  be  lodged  and  trees  blown  down ; 

Though  castles  topple  on  their  warders'  heads  : 

Though  palaces  and  pyramids  do  slope 

Their  heads  to  their  foundations  :  though  the  treasure 

Of  nature's  germens  tumble  all  together, 

Even  till  destruction  sicken  :  answer  me 

To  what  I  ask  you." 

Tremendous  storms  like  this  one  rage  about 
Scotland  and  England's  rocky  coast.  I  have  seen, 
without  the  aid  of  the  supernatural,  such  a  storm 
rage  around  the  southern  end  of  England.  The 
scene  of  the  apparitions  ends  with  the  last  false 
prophecy : 

Sec.  App.—"  Macbeth  !  Macbeth  !  Macbeth ! " 
Third  ^//.—"Macbeth  shall  never  vanquished  be 

Great  Birnam  wood  to  high  Dunsinane  hill  [until 

Shall  come  against  him," 

and  the  witches  themselves 

"Come  like  shadows,  so  depart." 

The  terrible  exhibition  of  his  feigned  inward  self 
by  Malcolm,  the  heir,  to  Macduff,  is  a  powerful 
Shakespearean  touch  : 


196  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

Malcolm — "But  I  have  none:  the  king-becoming 
graces, 

As  justice,  verity,  temperance,  stableness, 

Bounty,  perseverance,  mercy,  lowliness, 

Devotion,  patience,  courage,  fortitude, 

I  have  no  relish  of  them,  but  abound 

In  the  division  of  each  several  crime, 

Acting  it  many  ways.     Nay,  had  I  power,  I  should 

Pour  the  sweet  milk  of  concord  into  hell, 

Uproar  the  universal  peace,  confound 

All  unity  on  earth." 
Macduff—"0  Scotland,  Scotland  ! " 
Malcolm — "  If  such  a  one  be  fit  to  govern,  speak : 

I  am  as  I  have  spoken." 

In  showing  the  poet's  deeper  insight  of  the  human 
soul,  by  a  truer  impulse  Malcolm  takes  back  these 
false  self-accusations  and  is  himself  again. 

Then  comes  the  scene  in  Dunsinane  Castle,  when 
Lady  Macbeth's  imperious  will  breaks  down  at  last 
under  the  terrors  of  conscience. 

Lady  Macbeth  in  her  sleep  walking,  witnessed  by  the  Doc- 
tor and  her  nurse  : 

Doctor — "Look,  how  she  rubs  her  hands." 

Gentlewoman — "It  is  an  accustomed  action  with  her,  to 
seem  thus  washing  her  hands  :  I  have  known  her  continue 
in  this  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 


SOME   I<AST   GREAT  PI.AYS.  197 

Lady  M.—"  Yet  here's  a  spot." 

Doctor — "  Hark  !  she  speaks  :  I  will  set  down  what  comes 
from  her,  to  satisfy  my  remembrance  the  more  strongly." 

Lady  M. — "Out,  damned  spot!  out,  I  say!  One:  two: 
why,  then  'tis  time  to  do't.  Hell  is  murky.  Fie,  my  lord, 
fie  !  a  soldier,  and  af card  ?  What  need  we  fear  who  knows 
it,  when  none  can  call  our  power  to  account?  Yet  who 
would  have  thought  the  old  man  to  have  had  so  much  blood 
in  him?" 

Doctor—"  Do  you  mark  that  ? ' ' 

Lady  M. — "The  thane  of  Fife  had  a  wife  :  where  is  she 
now?  What,  will  these  hands  ne'er  be  clean  ?  No  more  o' 
that,  my  lord,  no  more  o'  that :  you  mar  all  with  this  start- 
ing." 

Doctor—  "  Go  to,  go  to  :  you  have  known  what  you  should 
not." 

Gentlewoman—  "She  has  spoken  what  she  should  not,  I 
am  sure  of  that :  heaven  knows  what  she  has  known." 

Lady  ^.—"Here's  the  smell  of  the  blood  still  :  all  the 
perfumes  of  Arabia  will  not  sweeten  this  little  hand.  Oh, 
oh,  oh  ! " 

Doctor— "  What  a  sigh  is  there!  the  heart  is  sorely 
charged." 

Gentlewoman—"  I  would  not  have  such  a  heart  in  my 
bosom  for  the  dignity  of  the  whole  body." 

Doctor—  "This  disease  is  beyond  my  practice  :  yet  I  have 


198  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

known  those  which  have  walked  in  their  sleep  who  have 
died  holily  in  their  beds." 

Lady  M. — "Wash  your  hands,  put  on  your  nightgown; 
look  not  so  pale :  I  tell  you  yet  again,  Banquo's  buried  ;  he 
cannot  come  out  on's  grave." 

Doctor—"  Even  sx>." 

Lady  M.— "To  bed,  to  bed  ;  there's  knocking  at  the  gate  ; 
come,  come,  come,  come,  give  me  your  hand  :  what's  done 
cannot  be  undone :  to  bed,  to  bed,  to  bed.*' 

Doctor—"  Will  she  go  now  to  bed  ?  " 

Gentlewoman—"  Directly." 

Doctor—"  Foul  whisperings   are  abroad  :    unnatural 

deeds 

Do  breed  unnatural  troubles  :  infected  minds 
To  their  deaf  pillows  will  discharge  their  secrets  : 
More  needs  she  the  divine  than  the  physician. 
God,  God  forgive  us  all !    Look  after  her  : 
Remove  from  her  the  means  of  all  annoyance, 
And  still  keep  eyes  upon  her.     So,  good  night : 
My  mind  she  has  mated  and  amazed  my  sight : 
I  think,  but  dare  not  speak." 

Gentlewoman— "Good,  night,  good  doctor." 

To  delay  now  no  longer  the  end,  Macbeth,  the 
warlike  king,  issues  from  his  castle  ;  his  fears  have 
vanished,  his  soldier's  courage  has  returned  to 


SOME  LAST  GREAT  PI.AYS.  199 

him  ;  he  rushes  fearlessly  into  the  fight  with  Mac- 
duff  and  is  slain.     Justice  triumphs. 

The  drama  deals  with  deep  things  of  the  soul : 
Temptation,  Sin,  and  Death.  Its  lesson  is  the 
yielding  of  the  spirit  to  the  temptation  to  be  great, 
to  an  unhallowed  ambition  that  passes  the  bounds 
of  that  natural  ambition  implanted  in  the  mind  to 
stimulate  it  to  do  and  be  good. 

The  play  is  better  suited,  I  think,  for  the  silent 
room  of  the  reader  than  for  the  stage.  The  reader 
closes  his  book  with  the  words  : 

Macbeth^"  Tomorrow  and  tomorrow  and  tomorrow, 
Creeps  in  this  petty  pace  from  day  to  day 
To  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time." 

One  then  appreciates  with  solemn  awe  what  an 
old  and  true  critic  calls 

"  The  pleasing  terrors  of  Tragedy/1 

KING  LEAR. 

This  play  is  pure  paganism.  It  deals  with  ele- 
mental powers  and  reminds  the  reader  of  those 
gigantic  forms  that  loom  up  in  the  pages  o 
lus,— pagan  throughout. 


200  THE   READING   OF   SHAKESPEARE. 

The  grand  old  king,  made  mad  by  the  unloving 
and  treacherous  conduct  of  his  daughters,  goes 
forth  into  the  fierce  storm.  He  and  the  human 
forms  accompanying  him  seem  strange  and  antique, 
and  even  in  the  scene  of  the  last  words  and  hours 
of  King  Lear,  the  faithful  and  lovely  Cordelia 
shows  a  touch  of  hardness  in  her  nature,  like  a 
beautiful  Greek  sculpture.  But  the  scene  is  laid 
on  British  soil,  and  the  path  traversed  during  the 
howling  tempest  by  Lear  and  his  group  of  follow- 
ers was  familiar  to  Shakespeare,  as  it  is  now  to 
those  of  us  who  have  walked  over  chalky  Dover 
cliff,  and  looked  off  towards  France  on  the  waters 
of  the  English  Channel.  Gloucester  says  in  his 
talk  with  Edgar  : 

"  There  is  a  cliff  whose  high  and  bending  head 
Looks  fearfully  in  the  confined  deep  : 
Bring  me  but  to  the  very  brim  of  it, 
And  I'll  repair  the  misery  thou  does  bear 
With  something  rich  about  me  :  from  that  place 
I  shall  no  leading  need." 

Edgar— "Come  on,  sir;    here's  the  place : 
stand  still.     How  fearful 


SOME  LAST   GRKAT  PLAYS.  2OI 

And  dizzy  'tis  to  cast  one's  eye  so  low  ! 
The  crows  and  choughs  that  wing  the  midway  air 
Show  scarce  so  gross  as  beetles  :  half  way  down 
Hangs  one  that  gathers  samphire,  dreadful  trade  ! 
Methinks  he  seems  no  bigger  than  his  head  : 
The  fishermen  that  walk  upon  the  beach 
Appear  like  mice  ;  and  yond  tall  anchoring  bark 
Diminish 'd  to  her  cock ;  her  cock,  a  buoy 
Almost  too  small  for  sight :  the  murmuring  surge 
That  on  the  unnumber'd  idle  pebbles  chafes 
Cannot  be  heard  so  high.     I'll  look  no  more, 
Lest  my  brain  turn  and  the  deficient  sight 
Topple  down  headlong.'' 

Shakespeare  in  this  great  play  seems  to  free 
himself  from  all  the  forms  that  had  gone  before  in 
literature  and  from  all  traditions  of  Christian 
drama,  and  to  fling  himself  freely  into  the  wild 
play  of  nature's  forces  and  passions. 

.There  followed  after  Lear  the  singular  company 
of  the  sturdy  English  Kent,  who  said  : 

"  Be  Kent  unmannerly,  when  Lear  is  mad  ;  " 

the  blind  Earl  of  Gloucester,  the  loving,  faith- 
ful Edgar,  the  smooth-faced  bastard  Edmund,  the 
Fool  shivering  in  his  rags,  a  motley  group  of  good 


202  THE    READING   OP   SHAKESPEARE. 

and  bad,  high  and  low,  fortuitously  brought 
together  to  breast  the  storm. 

There  is  a  sense  of  wild  power  when  the  poet 
"revelled  in  his  strength,"  the  more  so,  perhaps, 
of  any  of  his  dramas. 

Lear  asks  his  daughter  : 

"Which  of  you  shall  we  aay  doth  love  us  most  ?  " 

The  speeches  of  Goneril  and  Regan,  the  two 
elder  sisters,  are  crammed  with  protestations  of 
false  affection,  so  full  indeed  that  Cordelia  says, 
aside: 

"  What  shall  Cordelia  do  ?    Love,  and  be  silent" 

"Then  poor  Cordelia ! 
And  yet  not  so,  since  I  am  sure  my  love's 
More  ponderous  than  my  tongue." 

Lear  turns  to  Cordelia,  who  has  yet  said  noth- 
ing. He  asks : 

Lear—"  Nothing ! " 

Again, 
Lear—"  Nothing  will  come  of  nothing  :  speak  again." 

Cordelia  answers : 


SOME   LAST  GREAT  PI.AYS.  203 

' '  Good,  my  lord, 

You  have  begot  me,  bred  me,  loved  me  :  I 
Return  these  duties  back  as  are  right  fit, 
Obey  you,  love  you,  and  most  honour  you. 
Why  have  my  sisters  husbands,  if  they  say 
They  love  you  all  ?    Haply,  when  I  shall  wed, 
That  lord  whose  hand  must  take  my  plight  shall  carry 
Half  my  love  with  him,  half  my  care  and  duty  : 
Sure,  I  shall  never  marry  like  my  sisters, 
To  love  my  father  all." 

He  casts  himself  with  the  treacherous  sisters. 

The  old  fiery-hearted  king,  who  lived  now  solely 
in  and  for  the  affection  of  his  children,  was  not 
satisfied  with  this  reticent  truthfulness  of  Cordelia. 
It  might  indeed  awake  a  subtle  discussion  in  the 
euphemistic  style  of  noble  Sir  Philip  Sidney, 
whether  love  should  be  expressed  or  hidden.  The 
love  itself  is  infinitely  better  than  its  expression ; 
the  love  of  parent  and  child,  husband  and  wife, 
friend  and  neighbor — which  last  term  embraces 
the  whole  brotherhood  of  man, — whether  good  or 
bad,  worthy  or  unworthy,  Christian  or  heathen,  if 
expressed  only  in  general  phrases,  without  real 
kindness,  or  an  energetic  disposition  to  do  good, 


204  THE   READING  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

would  be  sheer  hypocrisy.  If  the  expression  of 
love  were  relegated  entirely  to  the  future  life  and 
to  the  intercourse  of  spiritual  beings,  this  world 
would  be  left  desolate  and  become  a  cold  and  bar- 
ren place,  and  the  scientific  prophecy  of  the  com- 
ing reign  of  the  earth's  final  refrigeration  would 
have  already  commenced. 

In  '  •  King  Lear  ' '  there  is  an  expression  of  Shake- 
speare' s  mightiest  strength,  and  the  play  is  a  block 
cut  out  of  rock,  hard  and  jagged,  without  any 
softening  feature  of  art  or  Christianity.  The 
author  casts  away  all  classic  rules  and  precedence, 
and  speaks  as  though  inspired  by  his  own  bold 
original  genius. 

HAMLET. 

Going  from  the  rugged  Lear,  in  his  concentrated 
storm  of  passion,  to  the  polished  Hamlet,  repre- 
senting the  sphere  of  universal  ideas,  it  is  indeed  a 
tame  word  to  say  that  the  Prince  of  Denmark  is  a 
gentleman ;  but  this  term  I  would  use  in  its  true 
sense. 


SOME   LAST  GREAT   PLAYS.  205 

Hamlet  is  a  cultivated  man.  He  is  inclined  to 
meditative  thought ;  he  loves  to  look  into  his  own 
mind,  and  to  analyze  the  springs  and  motives  of 
character  in  other  minds  ;  he  would  wish  to  pene- 
trate human  life  in  all  its  bearings ;  he  belongs,  in 
a  ruder  age,  to  the  modern  school  of  thought  and 
universal  philosophy.  He  is  quiet,  and  grows 
stout,  and  has  a  streak  of  indolence,  but  this  is 
combined  with  other  qualities  unknown  to  him- 
self; with  a  kind  heart,  with  genial  wit,  with  a 
power  of  friendship  and  love,  with  energies  for 
practical  activity  when  aroused  ;  these  are  manifest 
in  his  talk  with  his  student  friend  Horatio,  and  his 
keen  address  to  the  players,  showing  his  thought- 
ful knowledge  of  the  principles  of  art. 

In  his  witty  speech  to  the  old  courtier  Polonius, 
leading  him  whithersoever  he  wills,  and  in  his 
kindly  words,  though  with  a  touch  of  cynicism, 
addressed  to  the  skull  of  Yorick  : 

Hamlet — "O  heavens  !  die  two  months  ago,  and  not  for- 
gotten yet  ?  Then  there's  hope  a  great  man's  memory  may 
outlive  his  life  half  a  year :  but,  by'r  lady,  he  must  build 


206  THE   READING   OF   SHAKBSPEAKE. 

churches  then  ;  or  else  shall  he  suffer  not  thinking  on,  with 
the  hobby-horse,  whose  epitaph  is,  'For,  O,  for  O,  the 
hobby-horse  is  forgot.' " 

These  more  energetic  qualities  unconsciously,  per- 
haps, are  surprisingly  developed  when  awaked  to 
vigorous  action  by  the  appearance  of  his  father's 
ghost,  and  the  enormous  burden  of  responsibility 
suddenly  laid  upon  him  to  revenge  his  father's 
murder  and  set  to  rights  the  rotten  state  of  Den- 
mark. He  starts  up,  unites  in  himself  all  other 
characters,  interests,  and  events,  and  walks  the 
scene  in  the  terrible  step  and  form  of  avenger. 
His  madness  is  assumed  as  a  shield  for  his  deeper, 
craftier  plan.  In  his  interview  with  Ophelia,  one 
reads  between  the  lines  his  love,  and  Ophelia's  last 
moments  lend  infinite  pathos  to  the  drama. 

Her  mind  breaks  down,  but  its  sweetness  is  not 
lost.  Her  gift  of  flowers,  so  thoughtful  and  fitted 
to  every  one  to  whom  she  gives  them,  touches  the 
most  stoic  heart. 

The  snatches  of  her  strange,  loose  song  show  the 
strain  of  the  disordered  fancies  in  a  pure  and  inno- 
cent nature ;  her  interview  and  clinging  love  for 


SOME   LAST   GREAT  PLAYS.  207 

Hamlet,   and  her  maidenly  tribute  to  him  when 
her  true  heart  speaks  out,  are  exquisitely  fitting : 
Ophelia—  "O,  what  a  noble  mind  is  here  o'erthrown  ! 
The  courtier's,  soldier's,  scholar's,  eye,  tongue,  sword  : 
The  expectancy  and  rose  of  the  fair  state, 
The  glass  of  fashion  and  the  mould  of  form, 
The  observed  of  all  observers,  quite,  quite  down  ! 
And  I,  of  ladies  most  deject  and  wretched, 
That  suck'd  the  honey  of  his  music  vows, 
Now  see  that  noble  and  most  sovereign  reason, 
Like  sweet  bells  jangled,  out  of  tune  and  harsh  ; 
That  unmatch'd  form  and  feature  of  blown  youth 
Blasted  with  ecstacy  :  O,  woe  is  me, 
To  have  seen  what  I  have  seen,  see  what  I  see  !  " 

Hamlet's  burning  words  to  his  mother,  coming 
straight  from  a  hot  heart  that  had  been  cheated  in 
its  natural  and  deepest  affections,  show  the  most 
painful  moment  of  the  tremendous  trial  through 
which  he  is  now  passing. 

The  craftily  arranged  play  within  a  play,  the 
slaying  of  the  king,  the  death  of  his  mother,  the 
exchange  of  the  poisoned  rapier  in  his  duel  with 
Laertes,  in  the  explosion  of  that  world  of  wicked- 
ness and  deceit  in  which  his  own  life  was  lost,  are 
a  fitting  end  to  this  immortal  tragedy. 


208  THE    READING   OP  SHAKESPEARE. 

I  have  heard  the  greatest  actor  of  Germany, 
Emil  Devrient,  personate  this  character,  but  I  am 
still  of  the  opinion  that  Hamlet  is  better  suited  for 
the  silent  room  of  the  reader  than  for  the  stage. 
It  is  above  all  the  scholar's  play.  The  oftener  it 
is  read  the  more  it  will  awake  earnest  thought  on 
human  life,  both  present  and  the  future. 

Shakespeare,  as  I  have  just  said,  speaks  in  this 
play  of  Hamlet  to  the  mind  of  the  student  and 
thoughtful  educated  man. 


Shakespeare's  many  portraits,  whether  authentic 
or  unauthentic,  form  an  argument  by  themselves  of 
his  greatness. 

I  cannot  give  the  copy  of  a  photograph  picked 
up  in  Stratford-on-Avon,  nor  do  I  know  who  was 
the  artist  of  the  original  picture.  It  is  evidently 
modern  and  too  smooth  and  idealized,  lacking  even 
the  life-like  robustness  of  the  Stratford  bust,  but  it 
belongs  like  other  portraits  to  the  highest  historic 
type  of  humanity  —  an  imperial  face,  serenely 
strong,  betokening  a  harmony  of  nature  which 


SOME;  I,AST  GREAT  PI<AYS.  209 

combines  gentleness  and  power.  It  impressed  me 
as  a  face  that  comprehends  the  traits  of  other  por- 
traits, showing  in  its  imagined  results  the  thought- 
ful and  true  conception  of  a  courtly  man  of  the 
highest  education  and  culture. 


Shakespeare  was  by  no  means  a  perfect  man. 
He  had  his  faults,  arising  partly,  doubtless,  from 
the  rude  British  coarseness  of  the  period,  and  from 
his  own  exuberant  vitality.  While  his  head  was 
in  the  clouds,  his  feet  walked  on  the  solid  earth, 
and  were  sometimes,  it  may  be,  in  the  mud  and 
mire.  When  he  returned  to  Stratford  in  the  later 
years  of  his  life,  he  showed  a  shrewd  Anglo-Saxon 
instinct  towards  the  amassing  of  property,  which 
would  not  now  be  regarded  as  an  unreasonable 
trait.  But  it  should  not  be  forgotten  by  the  ear- 
nest reader  of  Shakespeare,  that  when  his  plays  are 
considered,  there  is  to  be  observed  a  decided  pro- 
gress in  his  maturer  nature;  an  elevation  of 
thought,  growing  more  purely  intellectual  and 
philosophic,  not  less  genial,  but  more  refined  in  his 


210  THE   READING   OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

loving  and  sweet-hearted  humor,  loftier  in  his 
spirit  and  imagination,  more  free  from  the  merely 
earthly  and  sensuous,  more  broad  in  his  love  of 
universal  humanity  and  of  man's  brotherhood, 
more  powerful  in  his  expression  of  the  deep  things 
of  life,  death,  and  eternity,  more  firm  in  his  belief 
in  the  principles  of  right,  justice,  and  truth,  and 
of  that  higher  divine  order  which  enters  into, 
shapes,  and  directs  all. 


OVERDUE- 

MART"  1944 

II  ' 


id    114, 


M188565 


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